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Novels by Capt. King. 


Captain Blake. Illustrated, lamo. . 

Cloth, 

gl.25 

The Colonel’s Daughter. Illustrated . 

a 

1.25 

The Colonel’s Christmas Dinner . 

(( 

1.25 

Marion’s Faith. Illustrated .... 

(( 

1.25 

Starlight Ranch- 

(1 

1 .00 

Kitty’s Conquest 

(( 

1 .00 

Laramie 

(( 

I 00 

The Deserter, and From the Ranks . 

u 

1. 00 

Two Soldiers, and Dunraven Ranch . 

(( 

1.00 

A Soldier’s Secret, and An Army Portia “ 

1. 00 


FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, Publishers, 

715 and 717 Market Street, Philadelphia. 



From the Ranks. 


TIVO NOVELS. 


BY 

CAPT. CHARLES KING, U.S.A., 

AUTHOR OF “THE COLONEL’S DAUGHTER,” “MARION'S FAITH,” “ KI'ITY’S 

CONQUEST,” ETC., ETC. 



PHILADELPHIA! 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 

1893. 


.V15 


Copyright, 1887, by J. B. Lippincott Compani. 







f 


THE DESERTER 



THE DESEETER 


PRELUDE. 

F ar up in the Northwest, along the banks of the broad, winding 
stream the Sioux call the Elk, a train of white-topped army- 
wagons is slowly crawling eastward. The October sun is hot at noon- 
day, and the dust from the loose soil rises like heavy smoke and 
powders every face and form in the guarding battalion so that features 
are wellnigh indistinguishable. Four companies of stalwart, sinewy 
infantry, with their brown rifles slung over the shoulder, are striding 
along in dispersed order, covering the exposed southern flank from sud- 
den attack, while farther out along the ridge-line, and far to the front 
and rear, cavalry skirmishers and scouts are riding to and fro, search- 
ing every hollow and ravine, peering cautiously over every divide,^^ 
and signalling halt^’ or forward’’ as the indications warrant. 

And yet not a hostile Indian has been seen ; not one, even as distant 
vedette, has appeared in range of the binoculars, since the scouts rode 
in at daybreak to say that big bands were in the immediate neighbor- 
hood. It has been a long, hard summer’s work for the troops, and the 
Indians have been, to all commands that boasted strength or swiftness, 
elusive as the Irishman’s flea of .tradition. Only to those whose num- 
bers were weak or whose movements were hampered have they appeared 
in fighting-trim. But combinations have been too much for them, and 
at last they have been “ herded” down to the Elk, have crossed, and 
are now seeking to make their way, with women, children, tepees, dogs, 
travois,” and the great pony herds, to the fastnesses of the Big Horn ; 
and now comes the opportunity for which an old Indian-figliter has 
been anxiously waiting. In a big cantonment he has held the main 
body under his command, while keeping out constant scouting-parlies 
to the east and north. He knows well that, true to their policy, the 


6 


THE DESERTER. 


Indians will have scattered into small bands capable of reassembling 
anywhere that signal smokes may call them, and his orders are to 
watch all the crossings of the Elk and nab them as they come into his 
district. He watches, despite the fact that it is his profound conviction 
that the Indians will be no such idiots as to come just where they are 
wanted, and he is in no wise astonished when a courier comes in on 
jaded horse to tell him that they have “ doubled’^ on the other column 
and are now two or three days’ march away down stream, making for 
the big bend.” His own scouting-parties are still out to the eastward : 
he can pick them up as he goes. He sends the main body of his in- 
fantry, a regiment jocularly known as The Riflers,” to push for a 
landing some fifty miles down-stream, scouting the lower valley of the 
Sweet Root on the way. He sends his wagon-train, guarded by four 
companies of foot and two of horsemen, by the only practicable road 
to the bend, while he, with ten seasoned troops” of his pet regiment, 
the — th Cavalry, starts forthwith on a long detour in which he 
hopes to round up” such bands as may have slipped away from the 
general rush. Even as boots and saddles” is sounding, other couriers 
come riding in from Lieutenant Crane’s party. He has struck the 
trail of a big band. 

When the morning sun dawns on the picturesque valley in which 
the cantonment nestled but the day before, it illumines an almost de- 
serted village, and brings no joy to the souls of some twoscore of em- 
bittered civilians who had arrived only the day previous, and whose 
unanimous verdict is that the army is a fraud and ought to be abolished. 
For four months or more some three regiments had been camping, 
scouting, roughing it thereabouts, with not a cent of pay. Then came 
the wildly exciting tidings that a boat was on the way up the Missouri 
with a satrap of the pay department, vast store of shekels, and a strong 
guard, and as a consequence there would be some two thousand men 
around the cantonment with pockets full of money and no one to help 
them spend it, and nothing suitable to spend it on. It was a duty all 
citizens owed to the Territory to hasten to the scene and gather in for 
local circulation all that was obtainable of that disbursement ; otlier- 
wise the curse of the army might get ahead of them and the boys 
would gamble it away among themselves or spend it for vile whiskey 
manufactured for their sole benefit. Gallatin Valley was emptied of 
its prominent practitioners in the game of poker. The stream was 
black with Mackinaw” boats and other craft. There was a rush for 


THE DESERTER. 


7 


fhe cantonment that rivalled the multitudes of the mining days, but all 
too late. The command was already packing up when the first con- 
tingent arrived, and the commanding officer, recognizing the fraternity 
at a glance, warned them outside the limits of camp that night, declined 
their services as volunteers on the impending campaign, and treated 
them with such calmly courteous recognition of their true character 
that the Eastern press was speedily filled with sneering comment on 
the hopelessness of ever subduing the savage tribes of the Northwest 
when the government intrusts the duty to upstart officers of the regular 
service whose sole conception of their functions is to treat with insult 
and contempt the hardy frontiersman whose mere presence with the 
command would be of incalculable benefit. We have it from indis- 
putable authority,’^ says The Miner^s Light of Brandy Gap, that when 
our esteemed fellow-citizen Hank Mulligan and twenty gallant shots 
and riders like himself went in a body to General at the canton- 

ment and offered their services as volunteers against the Sioux now 
devastating the homesteads and settlements of the Upper Missouri and' 
Yellowstone valleys, they were treated with haughty and contemptu- 
ous refusal by that bandbox caricature of a soldier and threatened 
with arrest if they did not quit the camp. When will the United 
States learn that its frontiers can never be purged of the Indian 
scourges of our civilization until the conduct of affairs in the field is 
intrusted to other hands than these martinets of the drill-ground ? It 
is needless to remark in this connection that the expedition led by 

General has proved a complete failure, and that the Indians easily 

escaped his clumsily-led forces.^^ 

The gamblers, though baffled for the time being, of course ^^get 
square,^^ and more too, with the unfortunate general in this sort of war- 
fare, but they are a disgusted lot as they hang about the wagon-train as 
last of all it is being hitched-in to leave camp. Some victims, of course, 
they have secured, and there are no devices of commanding officers which 
can protect their men against those sharks of the prairies when the men 
themselves are bound to tempt Providence and play. There are two 
scowling faces in the cavalry escort that has been left back with the train, 
and Captain Hull, the commanding officer, has reprimanded Sergeants 
Clancy and Gower in stinging terms for their absence from the com- 
mand during the night. There is little question where they spent it. 
and both have been cleaned out.’^ What makes it worse, both have^ 


8 


THE DESERTER. 


lost money that belonged to other men in the command, and they are 
in bad odor accordingly. 

The long day’s march has tempered the joviality of the entire 
column. It is near sundown, and still they keep plodding onward, 
making for a grassy level on the river-bank a good mile farther. 

Old Hull seems bound to leave the sports as far behind as possi- 
ble, if he has to march us until midnight,” growls the battalion adju- 
tant to his immediate commander. “ By thunder ! one would think 
he was afraid they would get in a lick at his own pile.” 

How much did you say he was carrying ?” asks Captain Rayner, 
checking his horse for a moment to look back over the valley at the 
long, dust-enveloped column. 

Nearly three thousand dollars in one wad.” 

How does he happen to have such a sum ?” 

Why, Crane left his pay-accounts with him. He drew all that 
was due his men who are off with Crane, — twenty of them, — for they 
had signed the rolls before going, and were expected back to-day. Then 
he has some six hundred dollars company fund ; and the men of his 
troop asked him to take care of a good deal besides. The old man has 
been with them so many years they look upon him as a father and trust 
him Vs implicitly as they would a savings-bank.” 

That’s all very well,” answers Rayner ; but I wouldn’t want to 
carry any such sum with me.” 

‘^It’s different with Hull’s men, captain. They are ordered in 
through the posts and settlements. They have a three weeks’ march 
ahead of them when they get through their scout, and they want their 
money on the way. It was only after they had drawn it that the news 
came of the Indians’ crossing and of our having to jump for the \^r- 
path. Everybody thought yesterday morning that the campaign was 
about over so far as we are concerned. Halloo ! here comes young 
Hayne. Now, what does he want ?” 

Riding a quick, nervous little bay troop horse, a slim-built officer, 
with boyish face, laughing blue eyes, and sunny hair, comes loping up 
the long prairie wave ; he shouts cheery greeting to one or two brother 
subalterns who are plodding along beside their men, and exchanges some 
merry chaff with Lieutenant Ross, who is prone to growl at the luck 
which has kept him afoot and given to this favored youngster a mount” 
and a temporary staff position. The boy’s spirits and fun seem to jar on 
Rayner’s nerves. He regards him blackly as he rides gracefully towards 


THE DESERTER, 


9 


the battalion commander, and with decidedly nonchalant ease of manner 
and an off-hand^^ salute that has an air about it of saying, I do this 
sort of thing because one has to, but it doesn’t really mean anytliing, 
you know,” Mr. Hayne accosts his superior : 

Ah, good-evening, captain. I have just come back from the 
front, and Captain Hull directed me to give you his compliments and 
say that we would camp in the bend yonder, and he would like you to 
post strong pickets and have a double guard to-night.” 

Have me post double guards ! How the devil does he expect me 
to do that after marching all day ?” 

I did not inquire, sir : he might have told me ’twas none of my 
business, don’t you know?” And Mr. Hayne has the insufferable 
hardihood to wink at the battalion adjutant, — a youth of two years’ 
longer service than his own. 

‘^Well, Mr. Hayne, this is no matter for levity,” says Hayner, 
angrily. What does Captain Hull mean to do with his own men, if 
I’m to do the guard ?” 

That is another point. Captain Kayner, which I had not the requi- 
site effrontery to inquire into. Now, you might ask him, but I couldn’t, 
don’t you know ?” responds Hayne, smiling amiably the while into the 
wrathful face of his superior. It serves only to make the indignant 
captain more wrathful ; and no wonder. There has been no love lost 
between the two since Hayne joined the Riflers early the previous year. 
He came in from civil life, a city-bred boy, fresh from college, full 
of spirits, pranks, fun of every kind ; a wonderfully keen hand with 
the billiard-cue ; a knowing one at cards and such games of chance 
as college boys excel at ; a musician of no mean pretensions, and an 
irrepressible leader in all the frolics and frivolities of his comrades. 
He had leaped to popularity from the start. He was full of cour- 
tesy and gentleness to women, and became a pet in social circles. He 
was frank, free, off-handed with his associates, spending lavishly, 
^Hreating” with boyish ostentation on all occasions, living quite en 
grand seigneur, for he seemed to have a little money outside his pay, 
— a windfall from a good old duffer of an uncle,” as he had explained 
it. His father, a scholarly man who had been summoned to an im- 
portant under-office in the State Department during the War of the 
Rebellion, had lived out his honored life in Washington and died poor, 
as such men must ever die. It was his wish that his handsome, spirited, 
brave-hearted boy should (‘^ter the army, and long after the sod had 

A* 


10 


THE DESERTER. 


hardened over the father’s peaceful grave the young fellow donned his 
first uniform and went out to join “ The Riflers.” High-spirited, Joy- 
ous, full of laughing fun, he was Pet” Hayne before he had been 
among them six months. But within the year he had made one or tw’O 
enemies. It could not be said of him that he showed that deference 
to rank and station which was expected of a junior officer ; and among 
the seniors were several whom he speedily designated unconscionable 
old duffers” and treated with as little semblance of respect as a second 
lieutenant could exhibit and be permitted to live. Rayner prophesied of 
him that, as he had no balance and was burning his candle at both ends, 
he would come to grief in short order. Hayne retorted that the only 
balance that Rayner had any respect for was one at the banker’s, and 
that it was notorious in Washington that the captain’s father had made 
most of his money in government contracts, and that the captain’s 
original commission in the regulars was secured through well-paid Con- 
gressional influence. The fact that Rayner had developed into a good 
officer did not wipe out the recollection of these facts ; and he could 
have throttled Hayne for reviving them. It was “ a game of give and 
take,” said the youngster; and he behaved himself” to those who 
were at all decent in their manner to him. 

It was a thorn in Rayner’s flesh, therefore, when Hayne joined from 
leave of absence, after experiences not every officer would care to en- 
counter in getting back to His regiment, that Captain Hull should have 
induced the general to detail him in place of the invalided field quarter- 
master when the command was divided. Hayne would have been a 
junior subaltern in Rayner’s little battalion but for that detail, and it 
annoyed the captain more seriously than he would confess. 

It is all an outrage and a blunder to pick out a boy like that,” he 
growls between his set teeth as Hayne canters blithely away. Here 
he’s been away from the regiment all summer long, having a big time 
and getting head over ears in debt, I hear, and the moment he rejoins 
they put him in charge of the wagon-train as field quartermaster. It’s 
putting a premium on being young and cheeky, — besides absenteeism,” 
he continues, growing blacker every minute. 

^^Well, captain,” answers his adjutant, injudiciously, “I think 
you don’t give Hayne credit for coming back on the jump the moment 
we were ordered out. It was no fault of his he could not reach us. 
He took chances I wouldn’t take.” 

"Oh, yes! you kids all swear by Hayne because he’s a good 


THE DESERTER. 


li 


fellow and sin^s a jolly song and plays the piano — and poker. One of 
these days he’ll swamp you all, sure as shooting. He’s in debt noWy 
and it’ll fetch him before you know it. What he needs is to be under 
> a ciiptain who could discipline him a little. By Jove, I’d do it !” And 
Bayner’s teeth emphasize the assertion. 

The young adjutant thinks it advisable to say nothing that may 
provoke further vehemence. All the same, he remembers Rayner’g 
bitterness of manner, and has abundant cause to. 

When the next morning breaks, chill and pallid, a change has come 
in the aspect of affairs. During the earliest hour of the dawn the red 
light of a light-draught river- boat startled the outlying pickets down- 
stream, and the Far West, answering the muffled hail from shore, 
responded, through the medium of a mate’s stentorian tones, News 
that’ll rout you fellows out.” The sun is hardly peeping over the 
jagged outline of the eastern hills when, with Bayner’s entire battalion 
aboard, she is steaming again down-stream, with orders to land at the 
mouth of the Sweet Boot. There the four companies will disembark in 
readiness to join the rest of the regiment. 

All day long again the wagon-train twists and wriggles through an 
ashen section of Les Mauvaises Terres. It is a tedious, trying march 
for Hull’s little command of troopers, — all that is now left to guard the 
train. The captain is constantly out on the exposed flank, eagerly 
scanning the rough country to the south, and expectant any moment of 
an attack from that direction. He and his men, as well as the horses, 
mules, and teamsters, are fairly tired out when at nightfall they park the 
wagons in a big semicircle, with the broad river forming a shining 
chord to the arc of white canvas. All the live-stock are safely herded 
within the enclosure ; a few reliable soldiers are posted well out to the 
south and east, to guard against surprise, and the veteran Sergeant 
Clancy is put in command of the sentries. The captain gives strict 
injunctions as to the importance of these duties ; for he is far from easy 
in his mind over the situation. The Biflers, he knows, are over in the 
valley of the Sweet Boot. The steamer with Rayner’s men is tied up 
at the bank some five miles below, around the bend. The — th are 
far off to the northward across the Elk, as ordered, and must be 
expecting on the morrow to make for the old Indian ferry” opposite 
Battle Butte. The main body of the Sioux are reported farther down 
stream, but he feels it in his bones that there are numbers of them 
within signal, and he wishes with all his heart the — th were here. 


12 


THE DESERTER, 


Still, the general was sure he would stir up war-parties on the other 
shore. Individually, he has had very little luck in scouting during the 
summer, and he cannot help wishing he were with the rest of the crow- 
instead of here, train-guarding. ^ 

Presently Mr. Hayne appears, elastic and debonair as though 
had not been working like a horse all day. His voice sounds so full i 
cheer and life that Hull looks up smilingly : 

Well, youngster, you seem to love this frontier life.^^ 

Every bit of it, captain. I was cut out for the army, as fathe 
thought.^^ 

We used to talk it over a good deal in the old days when I was 
stationed around Washington,^’ answers Hull. Your father was the 
warmest friend I had in civil circles, and he made it very pleasant fo? 
me. How little we thought it would be my luck to have you fo: 
quartermaster !” 

The fellows seemed struck all of a heap in the Riders at the ide: 
of your applying for me, captain. I was ready to swear it was all oi 
father’s account, and would have told them so, only Rayner happenec. 1 
to be the first man to tackle me on the subject, and he was so crusty 
about it I kept the whole thing to myself rather than give him an; 
satisfaction.” 

“ Larry, my boy, I’m no preacher, but I want to be the friend to 
you your father was to me. You are full of enthusiasm and life and 
spirits, and you love the army ways and have made yourself very pop 
ular with the youngsters, but I’m afraid you are too careless and inde 
pendent where the seniors are concerned. Rayner is a good soldier ; 
and you show him very scant respect, I’m told.” 

“ Well, he’s such an interfering fellow. They will all tell you I’l^^ 
respectful enough to — to the captains I like ” . 

That’s just it, Lawrence. So long as you like a man your manne> 
is what it should be. What a young soldier ought to learn is to b • 
courteous and respectful to senior officers whether he likes them or nc 
It costs an effort sometimes, but it tells. You never know what troub 
you are laying up for yourself in the army by bucking against men yc 
don’t like. They may not be in position to resent it at the time, bi 
the time is mighty apt to come when they will be, and then you a ' 
helpless.” 

Why, Captain Hull, I don’t see it that way at all. It seems to' 
me that so long as an officer attends to his duty, minds his own busi-* 


THE DESERTER. 


13 


ness, and behaves like a gentleman, no one can harm him ; especially 
when all the good fellows of the regiment are his friends, as they are 
mine, I think, in the Riders.” 

'^Ah, Hayne, it is a hard thing to teach a youngster that — that 
there are men who find it very easy to make their juniors^ lives a burden 
to them, and without overstepping a regulation. It is harder yet to say 
that friends in the army are a good deal like friends out of it : one only 
has to get into serious trouble to find how few they are. God grant 
you may never have to learn it, my boy, as many another has had to, 
by sharp experience ! Now we must get a good night’s rest. You 
sleep like a log, I see, and I can only take cat-naps. Confound this 
money ! How I wish I could get rid of it !” 

Where do you keep it to-night ?” 

Right here in my saddle-bags under my head. Nobody can 
touch them that I do not wake ; and my revolver is here under the 
blanket. Hold on ! Let’s take a look and see if everything is all 
right.” He holds a little camp-lantern over the bags, opens the fiap, 
and peers in. Yes, — all serene. I got a big hunk of green sealing- 
wax from the paymaster and sealed it all up in one package with the 
memorandum-list inside. It’s all safe so far, — even to the hunk of 
sealing-wax. — What is it, sergeant ?” 

A tall, soldierly, dark-eyed trooper appears at the door- way of 
the little tent, and raises his gauntleted hand in salute. His language, 
though couched in the phraseology of the soldier, tells both in choice 
of words and in the intonation of every phrase that he is a man whose 
antecedents have been far different from those of the majority of the 
rank and file : 

Will the captain permit me to take my horse and those of three 
or four more men outside the corral ? Sergeant Clancy says he has no 
authority to allow it. We have found a patch of excellent grass, sir, 
and there is hardly any left inside. I will sleep by my picket-pin, and 
one of us will keep awake all the time, if the captain will permit.” 

How far away is it, sergeant ?” 

Not seventy-five yards, sir, — close to the river-bank east of us.” 

Very well. Send Sergeant Clancy here, and I’ll give the necessary 
orders.” 

The soldier quietly salutes, and disappears in the gathering dark- 
ness. 

That’s what I like about that man Gower,” says the captain, after 

2 


14 


THE DESERTER, 


a moment’s silence. He is always looking out for his horse. If he 
were not such a gambler and rake he would make a splendid first- 
sergeant. Fine-looking fellow, isn’t he ?” 

“ Yes, sir. That is a face that one couldn’t well forget. Who 
was the other sergeant you overhauled for getting fleeced by those sharps 
at the cantonment ?” 

“ Clancy ? He’s on guard to-night. A very different character.” 
don’t know him by sight as yet. Well, good-night, sir. I’ll 
take myself off and go to my own tent.” 

Daybreak again, and far to the east the sky is all ablaze. The mist 
is creeping from the silent shallows under the banks, but all is life and 
vim along the shore. With cracking whip, tugging trace, sonorous 
blasphemy, and ringing shout, the long train is whirling ahead almost 
at the run. All is athrill with excitement, and bearded faces have a 
strange, set look about the jaws, and eyes gleam with eager light and 
peer searchingly from every rise far over to the southeast, wFere stands 
a tumbling heap of hills against the lightening sky. Off there, are 
they?” says a burly trooper, dismounting hastily to tighten up the 
cinch” of his weather-beaten saddle. “We can make it quick enough, 
’s soon as we get rid of these blasted wagons.” And, swinging into 
saddle again, he goes cantering down the slope, his charger snorting 
with exhilaration in the keen morning air. 

Before dawn a courier has galloped into camp, bearing a despatch 
from the commanding officer of the Riflers. It says but few words, 
but they are full of meaning ; “ We have found a big party of hostiles. 
Tliey are in strong position, and have us at disadvantage. Rayner 
with his four companies is hurrying to us. Leave all wagons with 
tlie boat under guard, and come with every horse and man you can 
bring.” 

Before seven o’clock the wagons are parked close along the bank 
beside the Far West, and Hull, with all the men he can muster, — ' 
some fifty, — is trotting ahead on the trail of Rayner’s battalion. With 
him rides Mr. Hayne, eager and enthusiastic. Before ten o’clock, far 
up along the slopes they see the blue line of skirmishers, and the knots 
of reserves farther down, all at a stand. In ten minutes they ride with 
foaming reins in behind a low ridge on which, flat on their faces and 
cautiously peering over the crest, some hundred infantrymen are dis- 
posed. Others, officers and file-closers, are moving to and fro in rear. 


THE DESERTER. 


15 


They are of Rayner^s battalion. Farther back, down in a ravine a 
dozen forms are outstretched upon the turf, and others are bending over 
them, ministering to the needs of those who are not past help already. 
Several officers crowd around the leading horsemen, and Hull orders, 
Halt, dismount, and loosen girths.^^ The grave faces show that the 
infantry has had poor luck, and the situation is summarized in few 
words. The Indians are in force occupying the ravines and ridges 
opposite them and confronting the six companies farther over to the 
west. Two attacks have been made, but the Indian fire swept every 
approach, and both were unsucccessful. Several soldiers were shot dead, 
others severely wounded. Lieutenant Warren’s leg is shattered below 
the knee ; Captain Blount is killed. 

Where’s Rayner ?” asks Hull, with grave face. 

Just gone off with the chief to look at things over on the other 
front. The colonel is hopping. He is bound to have those Indians 
out of there or drop a-trying. They’ll be back in a minute. The 
general had a rousing fight with Dull Knife’s people down the river 
last evening. You missed it again, Hull : all the — th were there 
but F and K, — and of course old Firewater wants to make as big a 
hit here.” 

‘‘The — th fighting down the river last night?” asks Hull, in 
amaze. 

“ Yes, — swept clean round them and ran ’em into the stream, they 
say. I wish we had them where we could see ’em at all. You don’t 
get the glimpse of a head, even ; but all those rocks are lined with the 
beggars. Damn them!” says the adjutant, feelingly. 

“ We’ll get our chance here^ then,” replies Hull, reflectively. “ I’ll 
creep up and take a look at it. Take my horse, orderly.” 

He is back in two minutes, graver than before, but his bearing is 
spirited and firm. Hayne watches him with kindling eye. 

“ You’ll take me in with yoii when you charge?” he asks. 

“ It is no place to charge there. The ground is all cut up with 
ravines and gullies, and they’ve got a cross-fire that sweeps it clean. 
We’ll probably go in on the other flank ; it’s more open there. Here 
comes the chief now.” 

Two officers come riding hastily around a projecting point of the 
slope and spur at rapid gait towards the spot where the cavalry have 
dismounted and are breathing their horses. There is hardly time for 


16 


THE DESERTER. 


salutations. A gray- headed, keen-eyed, florid-faced old soldier is the 
colonel, and he is snapping with electricity, apparently. 

This way, Hull. Come right here, and Ifll show you what you 
are to do.^^ And, followed by Hayner, Hull, and Hayne, the chief 
rides sharply over to the extreme left of the position and points to the 
frowning ridge across the intervening swale : 

There, Hull : there are twenty or thirty of the rascals in there 
who get a flank fire on us w^hen we attack on our side. What I want 
you to do is to mount your men, let them draw pistol and be all ready. 
Rayner, here, will line the ridge to keep them down in front. I’ll go 
back to the right and order the attack at once. The moment we begin 
and you hear our shots, you give a yell, and charge full tilt across there, 
so as to drive out those fellows in that ravine. We can do the rest. 
Do you understand ?” 

I understand, colonel ; but is it your order that I attempt 

to charge mounted across that ground ?” 

Why, certainly ! It isn’t the best in the world, but you can make 
it. They can’t do very much damage to your men before you reach 
them. It’s got to be done ; it’s the only way.” 

Very good, sir: that ends it!” is the calm, soldierly reply; and 
the colonel goes bounding away. 

A moment later the troop is in saddle, eager, wiry, bronzed fellows 
every one, and the revolvers are in hand and being carefully exam- 
ined. Then Captain Hull signals to Hayne, while Rayner and three 
or four soldiers sit in silence, watching the man who is to lead the 
charge. He dismounts at a little knoll a few feet away, tosses his reins 
to the trumpeter, and steps to his saddle-bags. Hayne, too, dismounts. 

Taking his watch and chain from the pocket of his hunting-shirt, 
he opens the saddle-bag on the near side and takes therefrom two 
packets, — one heavily sealed, — which he hands to Hayne. 

“ In case I — don’t come back, you know what to do with these, — as 
I told you last night.” 

Hayne only looks imploringly at him : You are not going to leave , 
me herey captain ?” 

Yes, Hayne. You can’t go with us. Hark I There they go at 
the right. Are the packages all right ?” j 

Hayne, with stunned faculties, thinking only of the charge he longs j 
to make, — not of the one he has to keep, — replies he knows not^what. ] 
There is a ringing bugle-call far otf among the rocks to the w(istward • 


THE DESERTER, 


Vi 


a rousing cheer ; a rattling volley. Rayner springs off to his men on 
the hill-side. Hull spurs in front of his eager troop, holding high his 
pistol-hand : 

Now, men, follow till I drop ; and then keep ahead ! Come on 
There is a furious sputter of hoofs, a rush of excited steeds up the 
gentle slope, a glad outburst of cheers as they sweep across the ridge and 
out of sight, then the clamor and yell of frantic battle ; and when at 
last it dies away, the Riflers are panting over the hard-won position and 
shaking hands with some few silent cavalrymen. They have carried 
the ridge, captured the migrating village, squaws, ponies, travois, and 
pappooses ; their long l^oms^^ have sent many a stalwart warrior to 
the mythical hunting-grounds, and the peppery coloneFs triumph is 
complete. 

But Lawrence Hayne, with all the light gone from his brave young 
face, stands mutely looking down upon the stiffening frame of his father’s 
old friend, and his, who lies shot through the heart. 


I. 

In the Pullman car of the westward-bound express, half-way across 
the continent, two passengers were gazing listlessly out over the wintry 
landscape. It was a bitter morning in February. North and south 
the treeless prairie rolled away in successive ridge and depression. The 
snow lay deep in the dry ravines and streaked the sea-like surface with 
jagged lines of foam between which lay broad spaces clean-swept by 
the gale. Heavy masses of cloud, dark and forbidding, draped the 
sky from zenith to horizon, and the air was thick with spiteful gusts 
and spits of snow, crackling against the window-panes, making fierce 
dashes every time a car door was hurriedly opened, and driving about 
the platforms like a myriad swarm of fleecy and aggressive gnats raging 
for battle. Every now and then, responsive to some wilder blast, a 
blinding white cloud came whirling from the depths of the nearest 
gully and breaking like spray over the snow fence along the line. Not 
a sign of life was visible. The tiny mounds in the villages of the 
prairie-dogs seemed blocked and frozen ; even the trusty sentinel had 
‘‘ deserted post” and huddled with his fellows for warmth and shelter in 
the bowels of the earth. Fluttering owl and skulking coyote, too, had 

2 * 


18 


THE DESERTER. 


vanished from the face of nature. Timid antelope — fleetest coursera 
of the prairie — and stolid horned cattle had gone, none knew whither, 
nor cared to know until the blizzard’^ had subsided. Two heavy en- 
gines fought their way, panting, into the very teeth of the gale and 
slowly wound the long train after them up-grade among the foot-hills 
of the great plateau of the Rockies. Once in a while, when stopping 
for a moment at some group of brown-painted sheds and earth-battened 
^shanties, the wind moaned and howled among the iron braces and 
brake-chains beneath the car and made such mournful noise that it was 
a relief to start once more and lose sound of its wailing in the general 
rumble. As for the scenery, only as a picture of shiver-provoking 
monotony and desolation would one care to take a second look. 

And yet, some miles ahead, striving hard to reach the railway in 
time to intercept this very train, a small battalion of cavalry w^as 
struggling through the blasts, officers and men afoot and dragging their 
own benumbed limbs and half-benumbed chargers through the drifts 
that lay deep at the bottom of every coul4e.^^ Some few soldiers re- 
mained in saddle ; they were too frozen to walk at all. Some few fell 
behind, and would have thrown themselves flat upon the prairie in the 
lethargy that is but premonition of death by freezing. Like men half 
deadened by morphine, their rescue depended on heroic measures, hu- 
mane in their seeming brutality. Officers who at other times were all 
' gentleness now fell upon the hapless stragglers with kicks and blows. 
As the train drew up at the platform of a station in mid-prairie, a 
hor^man enveloped in fur and frost and steam from his panting steed 
reined up beside the leading engine and shouted to the occupants of the 
/cab, — 

For God^s sake hold on a few minutes. WeVe got a dozen frozen 
men with us we must send on to Fort Warrener.’’ And the train was 
held. 

Meantime, those far to the rear in the sleeper knew nothing of 
what was going on ahead. The car was warm and comfortable, and 
most of its occupants were apparently appreciative of its shelter and 
coseyness in contrast with the cheerless scene without. A motherly- 
looking woman had produced her knitting, and was blithely clicking 
away at her needles, while her enterprising son, a youth of four sum- 
mers and undaunted confidence in human nature, tacked up and dowm 
the aisle and made impetuous incursions on the various sections by 
turns, receiving such modified welcome as could be accorded features 


THE DESERTER. 


19 


I streaked with mingled candy and cinders, and fingers whose propensity 
I to cling to whatsoever they touched was due no more to instincts of a 
i predatory nature than to the adhesive properties of the glucose which 
! formed so large a constituent of the confections he had been industri- 
I ously consuming since early morning. Four men playing whist in the 
: rearmost section, two or three commercial travellers, whose intimacy 
I with the porter and airs of easy proprietorship told of an apparent 
j controlling interest in the road, a young man of reserved manners, 
I reading in a section all by himself, a baby sleeping quietly upon the seat 
opposite the two passengers first mentioned, and a Maltese kitten curled 
up in the lap of one of them, completed the list of occupants. 

I The proximity of the baby and the kitten furnishes strong pre- 
sumptive evidence of the sex and general condition of the two passengers 
referred to, and renders detail superfluous. A baby rarely travels 
without a woman, or a kitten with a woman already encumbered with 
: a baby. The baby belonged to the elder passenger, the kitten to the 
I younger. The one was a buxom matron, the other a slender maid. 

I In their ages there must have been a diference of fifteen years; in 
; feature there was still wider disparity. The elder was a fine-looking 
j woman, and one who prided herself upon the Junoesque proportions 
i which she occasionally exhibited in a stroll for exercise up and down 
the aisle. Yet no one would call her a beauty. IT'^r eyes were of a 
somewhat fishy and uncertain blue ; the lids were tingod with an un- 
ornamental pink that told of irritation of the adjacent interior surface 
I and of possible irritability of temper. Her complexion was of that 
I mottled type which is so sore a trial to its possessor and yet so inesti- 
j mable a comfort to social rivals ; but her features were handsome, her 
! teeth fine, her dress, bearing, and demeanor those of a woman of birth 
i and breeding, and yet one who might have resented the intimation that 
\ she was not strikingly handsome. She looked like a woman with a 
i will of her own ; her head was high, her step was firm ; it was of just 
I such a walk as hers that Virgil wrote his vera incesm patuit dea/^ 
j and she made the young man in the section by himself think of that 
f very passage as he glanced at her from under his heavy, bushy eye- 
! brows. She looked, moreover, like a woman with a capacity for in- 
i tluencing people contrary to their will and judgment, and with a decide<l 
I ifondness for the exercise of that unpopular function. There was the 
' air of grande dame about her, despite the simplicity of her dress, wdiich, 
: though of rich material, was severely plain. She wore no jewelry. Her 


20 


THE DESERTER. 


hands were snugly gloved, and undisfigured by the distortions of any 
ring except the marriage circlet. Her manner attested her a person of 
consequence in her social circle and one who realized the fact. She had 
repelled, though without rudeness or discourtesy, the garrulous efforts 
of the motherly knitter to be sociable. She had promptly inspired the 
small, candy-crusted explorer with such awe that he had refrained from 
further visits after his first confiding attempt to poke a sticky finger 
through the baby^s velvety cheek. She had spared little scorn in her 
rejection of the bourgeois advances of the commercial traveller with the 
languishing eyes of Israel : he confided to his comrades, in relating the 
incident, that she was smart enough to see that it wasn’t her he was 
hankering to know, but the pretty sister by her side ; and when chal- 
lenged to prove that they were sisters, — a statement whicli aroused the 
scepticism of his shrewd associates, — he had replied, substantially, — 
How do I know ? ’Cause I saw their pass before you was up this 
morning, cully. It’s for Mrs. Captain Rayner and sister, and they’re 
going out here to Fort Warrener. That’s how I know.” And the 
porter of the car had confirmed the statement^n the sanctity of the 
smoking-room. 

And yet — such is the uncertainty of feminine temperament — Mrs. 
Rayner was no more incensed at the commercial gent” because he had 
obtruded his attentions than she was at the young man reading in his 
own section because he had refrained. Nearly twenty- four hours had 
elapsed since they crossed the Missouri, and in all that time not once 
had she detected in him a glance that betrayed the faintest interest in 
her, or — still more remarkable — in the unquestionably lovely girl at her 
side. Intrusiveness she might resent, but indifference she would and 
did. M^ho was this youth, she wondered, who not once had so much as 
stolen a look at the sweet, bonny face of her maiden sister? Surely 
’twas a face any man would love to gaze upon, — so fair, so exquisite 
in contour and feature, so pearly in complexion, so lovely in the deep, 
dark brown of its shaded eyes. 

The bold glances of the four card-players she had defiantly returned, 
and vanquished. Those men, like the travelling gents, were creatures 
of coarser mould ; but her experienced eye told her the solitary occupant 
of the opposite section was a gentleman. The clear cut of his pale 
features, the white, slender hand and shapely foot, the style and finish 
of his quiet travelling-dress, the soft modulation and refined tone of his 
voice on the one occasion w hen she heard him reply to some importunity 


THE DESERTER. 


21 


of the train-boy with his endless round of equally questionable figs and 
fiction, the book he was reading, — a volume of Emerson, — all combined 
to speak of a culture and position equal to her own. She had been 
over the trans-continental railways often enough to know that it was 
permissible for gentlemen to render their fellow-passengers some slight 
attention which would lead to mutual introductions if desirable ; and 
this man refused to^ee that the opportunity was open to liim. 

True, when first she took her survey of those who were to be her 
fellow-travellers at the transfer*^ on the Missouri, she decided that 
here was one against wdiom it would be necessary to guard the ap- 
' proaches. She had good and sufficient reasons for wanting no young 
man as attractive in appearance as this one making himself interest- 
ing to pretty Nellie on their journey. She had already decided what 
Nellie’s future was to be. Never, indeed, would she have taken her to 
the gay frontier station whither she was now en route, had not that 
future been already settled to her satisfaction. Nellie Travers, barely 
; out of school, was betrothed, and willingly so, to the man she, her 
devoted elder sister, had especially chosen. Rare and most unlikely 
of conditions ! she had apparently fallen in love with the man picked 
out for her by somebody else. She was engaged to Mrs. Rayner’s fas- 
cinating friend Mr. Steven Van Antwerp, a scion of an old and es- 
teemed and wealthy family ; and Mr. Van Antwerp, who had been 
I educated abroad, and had a Heidelberg scar on his left cheek, and dark, 

I lustrous eyes, and wavy hair, — almost raven, — was a devoted lover, 

I though fully fifteen years Miss Nellie’s senior. 

Full of bliss and comfort was Mrs. Rayner’s soul as she journeyed 
westward to rejoin her husband at the distant frontier post she had 
not seen since the early spring. Army woman as she was, born and 
bred under the shadow of the flag, a soldier’s daughter, a soldier’s wife, 
she had other ambitions for her beautiful Nell. Worldly to the core, 
i she herself would never have married in the army but for the unusual 
circumstance of a wealthy subaltern among the officers of her father’s 
regiment. Tradition had it that Mr. Rayner was not among the number 
of those who sighed for Kate Travers’s guarded smiles. Her earlier 
victims were kept a-dangling until Rayner, too, succumbed, and then 
were sent adrift. She meant that no penniless subaltern should carry off* 
her baby sister,” — they had long been motherless, — and a season at the 
sea-shore had done her work well. Steven Van Antwerp, with genuine 
distress and loneliness, went back to his duties in Wall Street after see- 


22 


THE DESERTER. 


ing them safely on thtir way to the West. Guard her well for me/' 
he whispered to Mrs. Rayner. I dread those fellows in buttons.” 
And he shivered unaccountably as he spoke. 

Nellie was pledged, therefore, and this youth in the Pullman was 
not one of those fellows in buttons,” so far as Mrs. Rayner knew, but 
she was ready to warn him off, and meant to do so, until, to her surprise, 
she saw that he gave no symptom of a desire to approach. By noon 
of the second day she was as determined to extract from him some sign 
of interest as she had been determined to resent it. I can in no wise 
explain or account for this. The fact is stated without remark. 

What on earth can we be stopping so long here for ?” was Mrs. 
Rayner's somewhat petulant inquiry, addressed to no one in particular. 
There was no reply. Miss Travers was busily twitching the ears of the 
kitten at the moment and sparring with upraised finger at the threaten- 
ing paw. 

Do look out of the window, Nell, and see.” 

There is nothing to see, Kate, — nothing but whirling drifts and a 
big water-tank all covered with ice. Br-r-r-r ! how cold it looks !” 
she answered, after vainly flattening her face against the inner pane. 

“ There must be something the matter, though,” persisted Mrs. 
Rayner. “We have been here full five minutes, and we are behind 
time noAV. At this rate we'll never get to Warrener to-night. I do 
wish the porter would stay here where he belongs.” 

The young man quietly laid down his book and arose. “ I will 
inquire, madame,” he said, with grave courtesy. “ You shall know in a 
moment.” 

“ How very kind of you !” said the lady. “ Indeed I must not 
trouble you. I'm sure the porter will be here after a while.” 

And even as she spoke, and as he was pulling on an overcoat, the 
train rumbled off again. Then came an exclamation, this time from 
the younger : 

“ Why, Kate ! Look ! see all these men, — and horses ! Why, they 
are soldiers, — cavalry ! Oh, how I love to see them again ! But, oh, 
how cold they look ! — frozen !” 

“ Who can they be ?” said Mrs. Rayner, all vehement interest now, 
and gazing eagerly from the window at the lowered heads of the horses 
and the muffled figures in blue and fur. “ What can they be doing in 
the field in such awful weather? I cannot recognize one of them. 


THE DESERTER, 


23 


or tell officers from men. Surely that must be Captain Wayne, — and 
I Major Stannard. Oh, what can it mean 

I The young man had suddenly leaped to the window behind them, 
and was gazing out with an eagerness and interest little less apparent 
than her own, but in a moment the train had whisked them out of sight 
of the storm-beaten troopers. Then he hurried to the rear window of 
the car, and Mrs. Rayner as hastily followed. 

“ Do you know them she asked. 

Yes. That was Major Stannard. It is his battalion of the — th 
Cavalry, and they have been out scouting after renegade Cheyennes. 
Pardon me, madame, I must go forward and see who have boarded the 
train. 

He stopped at his section, and again she followed him, her eyes 
full of anxiety. He was busy tugging at a flask in his travelling- 
bag. 

You know them ! Do you know — have you heard of any infantry 
being out? Pardon me for detaining you, but I am very anxious. 
My husband is Captain Rayner, of Fort Warrener.’^ 

No infantry have been sent, madame, I have reason to know ; 

[ at least, none from Warrener.” 

I And with that he hurriedly bowed and left her. The next moment, 

I flask in hand, he was crossing the storm-swept platform and making 
his way to the head of the train. 

believe he is an officer,’^ said Mrs. Rayner to her sister. 

Who else would be apt to know about the movement of the troops ? 
Did you notice how gentle his manner was ? — and he never smiled : 
he has such a sad face. Yet he can’t be an officer, or he would have 
made himself known to us long ago.’^ 

Is there no name on the satchel?’’ asked Miss Travers, with pai- 
donable curiosity. He has an interesting face, — not handsome.” And 
' a dreamy look came into her deep eyes. She was thinking, no doubt, 
5 of a dark, oval, distmgu^ face with raven hair and moustache. The 
I youth in the travelling-suit was not tall, like Steven, — not singularly, 
I lomantically handsome, like Steven. Indeed, he was of less interest to 
! her than to her married sister. 

Mrs. Rayner could see no name on the satchel, — only two initials ; 
and they revealed very little. 

I have half a mind to peep at the fly-leaf of that book,” she said. 

He walked just like a soldier ; but there isn’t anything there to indi- 


24 


THE DESERTER. 


cate what he is,” she continued, with a doubtful glance at the items 
scattered about the now vacant section. Why isn’t that porter here ? 
He ought to know who people are.” 

As though to answer her request, in came the porter, dishevelled and 
breathless. He made straight for the satchel they had been scrutinizing, 
and opened it without ceremony. Both ladies regarded this proceeding 
with natural astonishment, and Mrs. Rayner was about to interfere and 
question his right to search the luggage of passengers, when the man 
turned hurriedly towards them, exhibiting a little bundle of handker- 
chiefs, his broad Ethiopian face clouded with anxiety and concern : 

The gentleman told me to take all his handkerchiefs. We’se got 
a dozen frozen soldiers in the baggage-car, — some of ’em mighty bad, — 
and they’se tryin’ to make ’em comfortable until they get to the fort.” 

Soldiers frozen ! Why do you take them in the baggage-car ? — 
such a barn of a place ! Why weren’t they brought here, where we 
could make them warm and care for them ?” exclaimed Mrs. Rayner, 
in impulsive indignation. 

Laws, ma’am ! never do in the world to bring frozen people 
into a hot car ! Sure to make their ears an’ noses drop off, that would ! 
Got to keep ’em in the cold and pile snow around ’em. That gentle- 
man sittin’ here, — he knows,” he continued ; he’s an officer, and him 
and the doctor’s workin’ with ’em now.” 

And Mrs. Rayner, vanquished by a statement of facts well known 
to her yet forgotten in the first impetuosity of her criticism, relapsed 
into the silence of temporary defeat. 

He is an officer, then,” said Miss Travers, presently. I wonder 
what he belongs to.” 

“ Not to our regiment, I’m sure. Probably to the cavalry. He 
knew Major Stannard and other officers whom we passed there.” 

Did he speak to them ?” 

No : there was no time. We were beyond hearing-distance when 
he ran to the back door of the car ; and there was no time before that. 
But it’s very odd !” 

What’s very odd ?” 

Why, his conduct. It is so strange that he has not made himself 
known to us, if he’s an officer.” 

Probably he doesn’t know you — or we — are connected with the 
army, Kate.” 


THE DESERTER. 


25 


ll ^ Oh, yes, he does. The porter knows perfectly well, and I told 
I him just before he lefl.^’ 

“ Yes, but he didn^t know before that time, did he?’’ 

He ought to have known,” said Mrs. Rayner, uncompromisingly. 

At least, he should if he had taken the faintest interest. I mentioned 
i Captain Rayner so that he could not help hearing.” 

This statement being one that Miss Travers could in no wise con- 
tiTidict, — as it was one, indeed, that Mrs. Rayner could have dispensed 
with as unnecessary, — the younger lady again betook herself to silence 
; and pulling the kitten’s ears. 

Even if he didn’t know before,” continued her sister, after a pause 
in which she had apparently been brooding over the indifference of the 
young man in question, he ought to have made himself known after 
I told him who I was.” Another pause. “ That’s what I did it for,” 
she wound up, conclusively. 

‘^And that’s what I thought,” said Miss Travers, with a quiet 
smile. However, he had no time then : he was hurrying off to see 
i whether any of the soldiers had come on board. He took his flask 
with him, and apparently was in haste to offer some one a drink. I’m 
i sure that is what papa used to do,” she added, as she saw a frown 
i gathering on her sister’s face. 

What papa did just after the war — a time when everybody drank 
— is not at all die proper thing now. Captain Rayner never touches 
! it ; and I don’t allow it in the house.” 

Still, I should think it a very useful article when a lot of frozen 
and exhausted men are on one’s hands,” said Miss Travers. That 
was but a small flask he had, and I’m sure they will need more.” 

There came a rush of cold air from the front, and the swinging 
door blew open ahead of the porter, who was heard banging shut the 
outer portal. Tnen he hurried in. 

^^Can some of you gentlemen oblige me with some whiskey or 
brandy ?” he asked. We’ve got some frozen soldiers aboard. Two 
of ’em are pretty nearly gone.” 

Two of the card-players dropped their hands and started for their 
section at once. Before they could rummage in their bags for the re- 
quired article, Mrs. Rayner’s voice was heard : Take this, porter.” 
And she held forth a little silver flask. I have more in my trunk 
if it is needed,” she added, while a blush mounted to her forehead 
[IS she saw the quizzical smile on her sister’s face. ^‘You know I 

B 3 


26 


THE DESERTER. 


always carry it in travelling, Nellie, — in case of accident or illness; 
and Tm most thankful I have it now/^ 

Ever so much obliged, ma’am,” said the porter, but this would 
be only a thimbleful, and I can get a quart bottle of this gentleman.” 

Where are they ?” said the person thus referred to, as he came 
down the aisle with a big brown bottle in his hand. Come, Jim, 
let’s go and see what we can do. One of you gentlemen take my place 
in the game,” he continued, indicating the commercial gents, two of 
whom, nothing loath, dropped into the vacated seats, while the others 
pushed on to the front of the train. The porter hesitated one moment. 

Yes, take my flask : I shouldn’t feel satisfied without doing some- 
thing. And please say to the officer that I’m Mrs. Eayner, — Mrs. 
Captain Eayner, of the infantry, — and ask if there isn’t something I 
can do to help.” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; I will, ma’am. Oh, he knows who you are : 1 
done told him last night. He’s goin’ to Fort Warrener, too.” And, 
touching his cap, away went the porter. 

There ! He did know all along,” said Mrs. Eayner, trium- 
phantly. It is most extraordinary !” 

Well, is it the proper thing for people in the army to introduce 
themselves when travelling ? How are they to know it will be agree- 
able?” 

Agreeable ! Why, Nellie, it’s always done, — especially when 
ladies are travelling without escort, as we are. The commonest civility 
should prompt it ; and officers always send their cards by the porter the 
moment they find army ladies are on the train. I don’t understand 
this one at all, — especially ” But here she broke ofi* abruptly. 

Especially what ?” asked Miss Nell, with an inspiration of maid- 
enly curiosity. 

Especially nothing. Never mind now.” And here the baby began 
to fidget, and stir about, and stretch forth his chubby hands, and thrust 
his knuckles in his eyes, and pucker up his face in alarming contortions 
preparatory to a wail, and, after one or two soothing and tentative 
sounds of ^^sh — sh — sh — sh” from the maternal lips, the matron 
abandoned the attempt to induce a second nap, and picked him up in 
her arms, where he presently began to take gracious notice of his pretty 
aunt and the kitten. 

Two hours later, just as the porter had notified them that Warrener 
•Station would be in sight in five minutes, the young man of the oppo- 


THE DESERTER, 


21 


site section returned to the car. He looked tired, very anxious, and liis 
face was paler and the sad expression more pronounced than before. 
The train-conductor stopped him to speak of some telegrams that had 
been sent, and both ladies noted the respect which the railway official 
threw into the tone in which he spoke. The card-players stopped their 
game and went up to ask after the frozen men. It was not until the 
whistle was sounding for the station that he stood before them and with 
a grave and courteous bow held forth Mrs. Rayner^s silver flask. 

It was a blessing to one poor fellow at least, and I thank you for 
him, madame,^’ he said. 

I have been so anxious. I wanted to do something. Did you 

not get my message, Mr. she asked, with intentional pause that 

he might supply the missing name. 

Indeed there was nothing we could ask of you,’^ he answered, 
totally ignoring the evident invitation. I am greatly obliged to you 
for your kindness, but we had abundant help, and you really could not 
have reached the car in the face of this gale. Good-morning, madame.’* 
And with that he raised his fur travelling-cap and quickly turned to his 
section and busied himself strapping up his various belongings. 

The man must be a woman-hater,^^ she whispered to Miss Travers, 
He’s going to get out here, too. Who can he be ?” 

There was still a moment before the train would stop at the plat- 
form, and she was not to be beaten so easily. Bending partly across 
the aisle, she spoke again : 

“ You have been so kind to those poor fellows that I feel sure you 
must be of the army. I think I told you I am Mrs. Bayner, of Fort 
Warrener. May we not hope to see you there?” 

A deep flush rose to his forehead, suffusing his cheeks, and passed 
as quickly away. His mouth twitched aud trembled. Gazing at him 
in surprise and trouble, Nellie Travers saw that his face was full of 
pain and was turning white again. He half choked before he could 
reply : he spoke low, and yet distinctly, and the words were full of 
sadness : 

It — it is not probable that we shall meet at all.” 

And with that he turned away. 


28 


THE DESERTER, 


II. 

Even in the excitement attendant upon their reception at the sta- 
tion neither Mrs. Rayner nor her sister could entirely recover from the 
surprise and pain which the stranger’s singular words had caused. So far 
from feeling in the least rebuffed, Mrs. Rayner well understood from 
his manner that not the faintest discourtesy was intended. There was 
not a symptom of rudeness, not a vestige of irritation or haste, in his 
tone. Deep embarrassment, inexpressible sadness even, she read in the 
brief glimpse she had of his paling face. It was all a mystery to her 
and to the girl seated in silence by her side. Both followed him with 
their eyes as he hurried away to the rear of the car, and then, with 
joyous shouts, three or four burly, fur-enveloped men came bursting 
in the front door, and the two ladies, the baby, and the kitten were 
pounced upon and surrounded by a group that grew larger every min- 
ute. Released finally from the welcoming embrace of her stalwart 
husband, Mrs. Rayner found time to present the other and younger 
officers to her sister. As many as half a dozen had followed the cap- 
tain in his wild rush upon the car, and, while he and his baby boy 
were resuming acquaintanceship after a separation of many long 
months. Miss Travers found herself the centre of a circle of young 
officers who had braved the wintry blizzard in their eagerness to do 
her proper homage. Her cheeks were aflame with excitement and 
pleasure, her eyes dancing, and despite the fatigue of her long journey 
she was looking dangerously pretty, as Captain Rayner glanced for a 
moment from the baby’s wondering eyes, took in the picture like an 
instantaneous photograph, and then looked again into Mrs. Rayner’s 
smiling face. 

You were wise in providing against possibilities as you did, Kate,” 
he said, with a significant nod of the head. There are as many as a 
dozen of them, — or at least there will be when the — th gets back from 
the field. Stannard is out yet with his battalion.” 

Oh, yes : we saw them at a station east of here. They looked 
frozen to death ; and there are ever so many of the soldiers frozen. 
The baggage-car is full of them. Didn’t you know it ?” 

^^Not a word of it. Wq have been here for three mortal hours 
waiting at the station, and any telegrams must have been sent rignt out 
to the fort. The colonel is there, and he would have all arrangements 


THE DESERTER. 


29 


made. Here, Graham ! Foster ! Mrs. Kayner says there are a lot 
of frozen cavalrymen forward in the baggage-car. Rim ahead and see 
i what is necessary, will you ? I’ll be there in a minute, as soon as we’ve 
i got these ladies off the train.” 

i Two of the young gentlemen who had been hovering around Miss 
Travers took themselves off without a moment’s delay. The others 
remained to help their senior officer. Out into the whirling eddies 
of snow, bundling them up in the big, warm capes of their regulation 
overcoats, the officers half led, half carried their precious charges. 
The captain bore his son and heir; Lieutenant Ross escorted Mrs. 

! Rayner ; two others devoted themselves exclusively to Miss Travers ; a 
fourth picked up the Maltese kitten. Two or three smart, trim-looking 
infantry soldiers cleared the section of bags and bundles of shawls, and 
the entire party was soon within the door-way of the waiting-room, 
where a red-hot coal-stove glowed fierce welcome. Here the ladies 
were left for a moment, while all the officers again bustled out into the 
storm and fought their way against the northwest gale until they 
reached the little crowd gathered about the door-way of the freight- 
; sheds. A stout, short, burly man in beaver overcoat and cap pushed 
i through the knot of half-numbed spectators and approached their 
I leader . 

I We have only two ambulances, captain, — that is all there was at 

I the post when the despatch came, — and there are a dozen of these men, 
i besides Hr. Grimes, all more or less crippled, and Grimes has both 
i hands frozen. We must get them out at once. Can we take your 
; wagon ?” 

i Certainly, doctor. Take anything we have. If the storm holds, 

I tell the driver not to try to come back for us. We can make the ladies 
^ comfortable here at the hotel for the night. Some of the officers have 
i to get back for duties this evening. The rest will have to stay. How 
did they happen to get caught in such a freeze ?” 

S They couldn’t help it. Stannard had chased the Cheyennes across 

the range, and was ordered to get back to the railway. It was twenty 
below when they started, and they made three days’ chase in that 
weather ; but no one seemed to care so long as they were on the trail. 

! Then came the change of wind, and a driving snow-storm, in which 
they lost the trail as a matter of course ; and then this blizzard struck 
them on the back-track. Grimes is so exhausted that he could barely 
liold out until he got here. He savs he never could have brought 

3 * ^ 


30 


THE DESERTER. 


them through from Bluff Siding but for Mr. Hayne : he did every- 
thing.” 

‘‘Mr. Hayne! Was he with them?” 

“ He was on the train, and came in at once to offer his services. 
Grimes says he was invaluable.” 

“ But Mr. Hayne was East on leave : I know he was. He was 
promoted to my company last month, — confound the luck ! — and was 
to have six months’ leave before joining. I wish it was six years. 
Where is he now ?” And the captain peered excitedly around from 
under his shaggy cap. Oddly, too, his face was paling. 

“He left as soon as I took charge. I don’t know where he’s 
gone; but it’s God’s mercy he was with these poor fellows. His 
skill and care have done ever}i;hing for them. Where did he get 
his knowledge ?” 

“I’ve no idea,” said Captain Bayner, gruffly, and in evident ill 
humor. “ He is the last man I expected to see this day or for days to 
come. Is there anything else I can do, doctor ?” 

“ Nothing, thank you, captain.” And the little surgeon hastened 
back to his charges, followed by some of the younger officers, eager to 
be of assistance in caring for their disabled comrades. Bayner himself 
hesitated a moment, then turned about and trudged heavily back along 
the wind-swept platform. The train had pulled away, and was out of 
sight in the whirl of snow over the Western prairies. He went to his 
own substantial wagon, and shouted to the driver, who sat muffled in 
buffalo fur on the box, — 

“Get around there to the freight-house and report to the doctor. 
There are a lot of frozen cavalrymen to be taken out to the hospital. 
Don’t try to come back for us to night : we’ll stay here in town. Send 
the quartermaster’s team in for the trunks as soon as the storm is over 
and the road clear. That’s all.” 

Then he rejoined the party at the waiting-room of the station, and 
Mrs. Bayner noted instantly that all the cheeriness had gone and that 
a cloud had settled on his face. She was a shrewd observer, and she 
knew him well. Something more serious than a mishap to a squad 
of soldiers had brought about the sudden change. He was all glad 
ness, all rejoicing and delight, when he clasped her and his baby boy 
in his ai’ms but ten minutes before, and now — something had occurred 
to bring him serious discomfort. She rested her hand on his arm 
and looked questioningly in his face. He avoided her glance, and 


THE DESERTER. 31 

quickly began to talk She saw that he desired to answer no questions 
just then, and wisely refrained. 

Meantime, Miss Travers was chatting blithely with two young gal- 
lants who had returned to her side, and who had thrown otf tlieir heavy 
furs and now stood revealed in their becoming undress uniforms. Mr. 
E-oss had gone to look over the rooms which the host of the railway 
hotel had offered for the use of the party ; the baby was yielding to the 
inevitable and gradually condescending to notice the efforts of Mr. 
Foster to scrape acquaintance; the kitten, with dainty step, and ears 
I and tail erect, was making a leisurely inspection of the premises, sniff- 
ing about the few benches and chairs with which the bare room was 
burdened, and reconnoitring tlie door leading to the hall-way with evi- 
dent desire to extend her researches in that direction. Presently that 
very door opened, and in came two or three bundles of fur in masculine 
shape, and with them two shaggy deer-hounds, who darted straight at 
the kitten. There was a sudden flurry and scatter, a fury of spits and 
scratching, a yelp of pain from one brute with lacerated nose, a sudden 
recoil of both hounds, and then a fiery rush through the open door-way 
in pursuit of puss. After the first gallant instinct of battle her nerve 
had given out, and she had sought safety in flight. 

Oh, don’t let them hurt her !’ cried Miss Travers, as she darted 
into the hall and gazed despairingly up the stairway to the second story, 
whither the dogs had vanished like a flash. Two of the young officers 
sped to the rescue and turned the wrong way. Mrs. Rayner and the 
captain followed her into the hall. A rush of canine feet and an ex- 
cited chorus of barks and yelps were heard aloft ; then a stern voice 
ordering, Down, you brutes !” a sudden howl as though in response 
. to a vigorous kick, and an instant later, bearing the kitten, ruffled, ter- 
; rifled, and wildly excited, yet unharmed, there came springing lightly 
I down the steps the young man in civilian dress who was their fellow- 
traveller on the Pullman. Without a word he gave his prize into the 
dainty hands outstretched to receive it, and, never stopping an instant, 
never listening to the eager words of thanks from her pretty lips, he 
darted back as quickly as he came, leaving Miss Travers suddenly 
stricken dumb. 

Captain Rayner turned sharply on his heel and stepped back into 
the waiting-room. Mr. Ross nudged a brother lieutenant and whis- 
pered, “ By gad ! that’s awkward for Midas !” The two subalterns 
who had taken the wrong turn at the top of the stairs reappeared there 


32 


THE DESERTER. 


just as the rescuer shot past them on his way back, and stood staring, 
first after his disappearing form, and then at each other. Miss Travers, 
with wonder and relief curiously mingled in her sweet face, clung to 
her restored kitten and gazed vacantly up the stairs. 

Mrs. Rayner looked confusedly from one to the other, quickly 
noting the constraint in the manner of every officer present and the 
sudden disappearance of her husband. There was an odd silence for 
a moment : then she spoke : 

Mr. Ross, do you know that gentleman 

I know who he is. Yes.’’ 

Who is he, then ?” 

He is your husband’s new first lieutenant, Mrs. Rayner. That is 
Mr. Hayne.” 

“ That ! — Mr. Hayne ?” she exclaimed, growing suddenly pale. 

“ Certainly, madame. Had you never seen him before ?” 

Never ; and I expected — I didn’t expect to see such a ” And 

she broke short off, confused and plainly distressed, turned abruptly, and 
left the hall as had her husband. 


HI. 

The officers of Fort Warrener were assembled, as was the daily 
morning custom, in the presence of the colonel commanding. It had 
long been the practice of that veteran soldier to require all his com- 
missioned subordinates to put in an appearance at his office immediately 
after tlie ceremony of guard-mounting. He might have nothing to say 
to them, or he might have a good deal ; and he was a man capable 
of saying a good deal in very few words, and meaning exactly what he 
said. It was his custom to look up from his writing as each officer 
entered and respond to the respectful salutation tendered him with an 
equally punctilious Good-morning, Captain Gregg,” or Good-morn- 
ing, Mr. Blake,” — never omitting the mention of the name, unless, as 
was sometimes tried, a squad of them came in together and made their 
obeisance as a body. In this event the colonel simply looked each man 
in the face, as though taking mental note of the individual constituents 
of the group, and contented himself with a ^^Good-morning, gentle- 
men.” 

When in addition to six troops of his own regiment of cavalry 
there were sent to the post a major and four companies of infantry, 


THE DESERTER. 


33 


gome of the junior officers of the latter organization had suggested to 
their comrades of the yellow stripes that as the colonel had no roll-call 
it might be a matter of no great risk to cut the matin^e^^ on some of 
the fiendishly cold mornings that soon set in ; but the experiment was 
never designedly tried, thanks, possibly, to the frank exposition of his 
)ersonal views as expressed by Lieutenant Blake, of the cavalry, who 
said, “ Try it if you are stagnating for want of a sensation, my genial 
plodder, but not if you value the advice of one who has been there, so 
to speak. The chief will spot you quicker than he can a missing shoe, 
— a missing /torseshoe, Johnny, let me elaborate for your comprehen- 
sion, — and the next question will be, ‘ Mr. Bluestrap, did you inten- 
tionally absent yourself?’ and ihm how will you get out of it?” 

The matinees, so called, were by no means unpopular features of 
the daily routine. The officers were permitted to bring their pipes or 
cigars and take their after-breakfast smoke in the big, roomy office of 
the commander, just as they were permitted to enjoy the post-prandial 
whifp when at evening recitation in the same office they sat around the 
room, chatting in low tones, for half an hour, while the colonel re- 
ceived the reports of his adjutant, the surgeon, and the old and the new 
officer of the day. Then any matters affecting the discipline or in- 
struction or general interests of the command were brought up ; both 
sides of the question were presented, if question arose ; the decision 
was rendered then and there, and the officers were dismissed for the 
day with the customary That’s all, gentlemen.” They left the office 
well knowing that only in the event of some sudden emergency would 
they be called thither again or disturbed in their daily vocations until 
the same hour on the following morning. Meantime, they must be 
about their work : drills, if weather permitted ; stable-duty, no matter 
what the weather ; garrison courts, boards of survey, the big general 
court that was perennially dispensing justice at the post, and the long 
list of minor but none the less exacting demands on the time and 
attention of the subalterns and company commanders. The colonel 
was a strict, even severe, disciplinarian, but he was cool, deliberate, and 
just. He worked” his officers, and thereby incurred the criticism of 
a few, but held the respect of all. He had been a splendid cavalry- 
commander in the field of all others where his sterling qualities were 
«ure to find responsive appreciation in his officers and men, — on active 
and stirring campaigns against the Indians, — and among his own regi- 
ment he knew that deep in their hearts the — th respected and 
B* 


34 


THE DESERTER. 


believed in him, even when they growled at garrison exactions which 
seemed uncalled for. The infantry officers knew less of him as a ster- 
ling campaigner, and were not so well pleased with his discipline. It 
was all right for him to rout out^^ every mother’s son in the cavalry 
at reveille, because all the cavalry officers had to go to stables soon 
afterwards, — that was all they were fit for, — but what on earth was the 
use of getting them — the infantry — out of their warm beds before 
sunrise on a wintry morning and having no end of roll-calls and such 
things through the day, ‘^just to keep them busy”? The real objection 
— the main objection — to the colonel’s system was that it kept a large 
number of officers, most of whom were educated gentlemen, hammer- 
ing all day long at an endless routine of trivial duties, allowing actually 
no time in which they could read, study, or improve their minds ; but, 
as ill luck would have it, the three young gentlemen who decided to 
present to the colonel this view of the case had been devoting what 
spare time they could find to a lively game of poker down at the 
store,” and their petition for ^‘more time to themselves” brought down 
a reply from the oracular lips of the commander that became immortal 
on the frontier and made the petitioners nearly frantic. For a week 
the trio was the butt of all the wits at Fort Warrener. And yet the en- 
tire commissioned force felt that they were being kept at the grindstone 
because of the frivolity of these few youngsters, and they did not like 
it. All the same the cavalrymen stuck up for their colonel, and the in- 
fantrymen respected him, and the matinees were business-like and profit- 
able. They were rarely unpleasant in any feature ; but this particular 
morning — two days after the arrival of Mrs. Rayner and her sister — 
there had been a scene of somewhat dramatic interest, and the groups 
of officers in breaking up and going away could discuss nothing else. 
The colonel had requested one of their number to remain, as he wished 
to speak to him further ; and that man was Lieutenant Hayne. 

Seven years had that young gentleman been a second lieutenant 
of the regiment of infantry a detachment of which was now stationed 
at Warrener. Only this very winter had promotion come to him ; 
and, of all companies in the regiment, he was gazetted to the first- 
lieutenancy of Captain Rayner’s. For a while the regiment when by 
itself could talk of little else. Mr. Hayne had spent three or four 
years in the exile of a little two-company post” far up in the moun- 
tains. Except the officers there stationed, none of his comrades liad 
seen him during that time. No one of them would like to admit that 


THE DESERTER, 


35 


he would care to see him. And yet, when once in a while they got to 
talking among themselves about him, and the question was sometimes 
confidentially asked of comrades who came down on leave from that 
isolated station, How is Hayne doing or, What is Hayne doing 
the language in which he was referred to grew by degrees far less 
truculent and confident than it had been when he first went thither. 
Officers of other regiments rarely spoke to the Riflers’’ of Mr. Hayne. 
Unlike one or two others of their arm of the service, this particular 
regiment of foot held the affairs of its officers as regimental property 
in which outsiders had no concern. If they had disagreements, they 
were kept to themselves ; and even in a case which in its day had at- 
tracted wide-spread attention the Riflers had long since learned to shun 
all talk outside. It was evident to other commands that the Hayne 
affair was a sore point and one on which they preferred silence. And 
yet it was getting to be whispered around that the Riders were by no 
means so unanimous as they had been in their opinion of this very 
officer. They were becoming divided among themselves ; and what com- 
plicated matters was the fact that those who felt their views under- 
going a reconstruction were compelled to admit that just in proportion 
as the case of Mr. Hayne rose in their estimation the reputation of an- 
other officer was bound to suffer ; and that officer was Captain Rayner. 

Between these two men not a word had been exchanged for five 
years, — not a single word since the day when, with ashen face and 
broken accents, but with stern purpose in every syllable. Lieutenant 
Hayne, standing in the presence of nearly all the officers of his regi- 
ment, had hurled this prophecy in his adversary’s teeth : Though 
it take me years, I will live it down despite you ; and you will wish 
to God you had bitten out your perjured tongue before ever you told the 
lie that wrecked me.” 

No wonder there was talk, and lots of it, in the Riders” and all 
through the garrison when Rayner’s first lieutenant suddenly threw up 
his commission and retired to the mines he had located in Montana, 
and Hayne, the senior second,” was promoted to the vacancy. Specu- 
lation as to what would be the result was given a temporary rest by 
the news that War Department orders had granted the subaltern six 
months’ leave, — the first he had sought, in as many years. It was 
known that he had gone East ; but hardly had he been away a fort- 
night when there came the trouble with the Cheyennes at the reserva- 
tion, — a leap for liberty by some fifty of the band, and an immediate 


36 


THE DESERTER 


rush of the cavalry in pursuit. There were some bloody atrocities, as 
there aiways are. All the troops in the department were ordered to be 
in readiness for instant service, while the officials eagerly watched the 
reports to see which way the desperate band would turn ; and the next 
heard of Mr. Hayne was the news that he had thrown up his leave 
and had hurried out to join his company the moment the Eastern 
papers told of the trouble. It was all practically settled by the time 
lie reached the department; but the spirit and intent of his action 
could not be doubted. And now here he was at Warrener. That very 
morning during the matinee he had entered the office unannounced, 
walked up to the desk of the commander, and, while every voice but 
his in the room was stilled, he quietly spoke : 

Permit me to introduce myself, colonel, — Mr. Hayne. I desire 
to relinquish my leave of absence and report for duty.^^ 

The colonel quickly arose and extended his hand : 

Mr. Hayne, I am especially glad to see you and to thank you here 
for all your care and kindness to our men. The doctor tells me that 
many of them would have had to suffer the loss of noses and ears, eve.: 
of hands and feet in some cases, but for your attention. Major Stannard 
will add his thanks to mine when he returns. Take a seat, sir, for the 
present. You are acquainted with the officers of your own regiment, 
doubtless. Mr. Billings, introduce Mr. Hayne to ours.^’ 

Whereat the adj utant courteously greeted the new-comer, presented a 
small party of yellow-strapped shoulders, and then drew him into earnest 
talk about the adventure of the train. It was noticed that Mr. Hayne 
neither by word nor glance gave the slightest recognition of the presence 
of the officers of his own regiment, and that they as studiously avoided 
him. One or two of their number had, indeed, risen and stepped for- 
ward, as though to offer him the civil greeting due to one of their own 
cloth ; but it was with evident doubt of the result. They reddened 
when he met their tentative — which was that of a gentleman — with a 
cold look of utter repudiation. He did not choose to see them, and, of 
course, that ended it. 

Nor was his greeting hearty among the cavalrymen. There were 
only a few present, as most of the — th were still out in the field and 
marching slowly homeward. The introductions were courteous and 
formal, there was even constraint among some two or three, but there 
was civility and an evident desire to refer to his services in behalf of 
tlieir men. All such attempts, however, Mr. Hayne waved aside by 


THE DESERTER, 


37 


an immediate change of the subject. It was plain that to them too, 
he had the manner of a man who was at odds with the worldi and 
desired to make no friends. 

The colonel quickly noted the general silence and constraint, and 
resolved to shorten it as much as possible. Dropping his pen, he 
wheeled around in his chair with determined cheerfulness : 

“ Mr. Hayne, you will need a day or two to look about before you 
select quarters and get ready for work, I presume.’^ 

Thank you, colonel. No, sir. I shall move in this afternoon and 
be on duty to-morrow morning,’’ was the calm reply. 

There was an awkward pause for a moment. The officers looked 
blankly from one to another, and then began craning their necks to 
search for the post quartermaster, who sat an absorbed listener. Then 
the colonel spoke again : 

I appreciate your promptness, Mr. Hayne ; but have you considered 
that in choosing quarters according to your rank you will necessarily 
move somebody out? We are crowded now, and many of your juniors 
are married, and the ladies will want time to pack.” 

An anxious silence again. Captain Rayner was gazing at his boot- 
toes and trying to appear utterly indifferent ; others leaned forward, as 
though eager to hear the answer. A faint smile crossed Mr. Hayne’s 
features : he seemed rather to enjoy the situation : 

I have considered, colonel. I shall turn nobody out, and nobody 
need be incommoded in the least.” 

Oh ! then you will share quarters with some of the bachelors ?” 
asked the colonel, with evident relief. 

^^No, sir;” and the answer was stern in tone, though perfectly 
respectful : I shall live as I have lived for years, — utterly alone.” 

One could have heard a pin drop in the office, — even on the matted 
floor. The colonel half rose : 

^^Why, Mr. Hayne, there is not a vacant set of quarters in the 
garrison. You will have to move some one out if you decide to live 
alone.” 

There may be no quarters in the post, sir, but, if you will permit 
me, I can live near my company and yet in officers’ quarters.” 

“ How so, sir ?” 

In the house out there on the edge of the garrison, facing the 
prairie. It is within stone’s-throw of the barracks of Company B, and 
is exactly like those built for the officers in here along the parade.” 


THE DESERTER, 




Why, Mr. Hayne, no officers ever lived there. It is utterly out 
of the way and isolated. I believe it was built for the sutler years ago, 
but was bought in by the government afterwards. — Who lives there 
now, Mr. Quartermaster 

“ No one, sir. It is being used as a tailors’ shop ; half a dozen of 
the company tailors work there ; but I can send them back to their own 
barracks. The house is in good repair, and, as Mr. Hayne says, exactly 
like those built for officers’ use.” 

And you mean you want to live there, alone, Mr. Hayne ?” 

I do, sir, — exactly.” 

The colonel turned sharply to his desk once more. The strained 
silence continued a moment. Then he faced his officers : 

Mr. Hayne, will you remain a few moments ? I wish to speak 
with you. — Gentlemen, that is all this morning.” And so the meeting 
adjourned. 

While many of the cavalry officers strolled into the neighboring 
club- and reading-room, it was noticed that their comrades of the in- 
fantry lost no time at intermediate points, but took the shortest road to 
the row of brown cottages known as the officers’ quarters. The feeling 
of constraint that had settled upon all was still apparent in the group 
that entered the club-room, and for a moment no one spoke. There 
was a geneml settling into easy-chairs and picking up of newspapers 
without reference to age or date. No one seemed to want to say any- 
thing, and yet every one felt it necessary to have some apparent excuse 
for becoming absorbed in other matters. This was so evident to Lieu- 
tenant Blake that he speedily burst into a laugh, — the first that had been 
heard, — and when two or three heads popped out from behind their 
printed screens to inquire into the cause of his mirth, that light-hearted 
gentleman was seen sprawling his long legs apart and gazing out of the 
window after the groups of infantrymen. 

What do you see that’s so intensely funny ?” growled one of the 
elders among the dragoons. 

Nothing, old mole, — nothing,” said Blake, turning suddenly about. 
‘^It looks too much like a funeral procession for fun. What I’m 
chuckling at is the absurdity of our coming in here like so many mutes 
in weepers. It’s none of our funeral.” 

Strikes me the situation is damned awkward,” growled ^Ghe 
mole” again. Here’s a fellow comes in who’s cut by his regiment 


THE DESERTER. 


39 


and has placed ours under lasting obligation before he gets inside the 
post/^ 

Well, does any man here know the rights and wrongs of the case, 
anyhow said a tall, bearded captain as he threw aside the paper which 
he had not been reading, and rose impatiently to his feet. “ It seems to 
me, from the little IVe heard of Mr. Hayne and the little IVe seen, 
that there is a broad variation between facts and appearances. He l(»oks 
like a gentleman.’’ 

No one does know anything more of the matter than was known ‘ 
at the time of the court-martial five years ago,” answered the mole.” 

Of course you have heard all about that ; and my experience is that 
when a body of officers and gentlemen find, after due deliberation on 
the evidence, that another has been guilty of conduct unbecoming an 
officer and a gentleman, the chances are a hundred to one he has been 
doing something disreputable, to say the least.” 

Then why wasn’t he dismissed ?” queried a young lieutenant. 

The law says he must be.” 

That’s right, Dolly : pull your Ives and Ben^t on ’em, and show 
you know all about military law and courts-martial,” said the captain, 
crushingly. “ It’s one thing for a court to sentence, and another for 
the President to approve. Hayne was dismissed, so far as a court 
could do it, but the President remitted the whole thing.” 

There was more to it than that, though, and you know it, Bux- 
ton,” said Blake. Neither the department commander nor General 
Sherman thought the evidence conclusive, and they said so, — especially 
old Gray Fox. And you ask any of these fellows here now whether 
they believe Hayne was really guilty, and I’ll bet you that eight out of 
ten will flunk at the question.” 

And yet they all cut him dead. That’s pimfia fade evidence of 
what they think.” 

Cut be blowed ! By gad, if any man asked me to testify on oath 
as to where the cut lay, I should say he had cut them. Did you see 
how he ignored Foster and Graham this morning?” 

I did ; and I thought it damned ungentlemanly in him. Those 
fellows did the proper thing, and he ought to have acknowledged it,” 
broke in a third officer. 

^‘Pm not defending that point; the Lord knows he has done 
nothing to encourage civility with his own people ; but there are two 
sides to every story, and I asked their adjutant last fall, when there was 


40 


THE DESERTER, 


some talk of his company’s being sent here, what Hayne’s status was, 
and he told me. There isn’t a squarer man or sounder soldier in the 
army than the adjutant of the Riflers ; and he said that it was Hayne’s 
stubborn pride that more than anything else stood in the way of his 
restoration to social standing. He had made it a rule that every one 
who was not for him was against him, and refused to admit any man to 
his society who would not first come to him of his own volition and say 
he believed him utterly innocent. As that involved the necessity of their 
looking upon Rayner as either perjured or grossly and persistently 
mistaken, no one felt called upon to do it. Guilty or innocent, he has 
lived the life of a Pariah ever since.” 

I wanted to open out to him, to-day,” said Captain Gregg, but 
the moment I began to speak of his great kindness to our men he froze 
as stitf as Mulligan’s ear. What was the use? I simply couldn’t 
thaw an icicle. What made him so effective in getting the frost out of 
them was his capacity for absorbing it into his own system.” 

^^Well, here, gentlemen,” said Buxton, impatiently, we’ve got to 
face this thing sooner or later, and may as well do it now. I know 
Rayner, and like him, and don’t believe he’s the kind of man to wilfully 
wrong another. I donH know Mr. Hayne, and Mr. Hayne apparently 
don’t want to know me. I think that where a man has been convicted 
of dishonorable — disgraceful conduct and is cut by his whole regiment 
it is our business to back the regiment, not the man. Now the question 
is, where shall we draw the line in this case? It’s none of our funeral, 
as Blake says, but ordinarily it would be our duty to call upon this 
officer. Shall we do it, now that he is in Coventry, or shall we leave 
him to his own devices ?” 

I’ll answer for myself, Buxton,” said Blake, and you can do as 
you please. Except that one thing, and the not unusual frivolities of a 
youngster that occurred previous to his trial, I understand that his 
character has been above reproach. So far as I can learn, he is a far 
more reputable character than I am, and a better officer than most of us. 
Growl all you want to, comrades mine : ^ it’s a way we have in tlie 
army,’ and I like it. So long as I include myself in these malodorous 
comparisons, you needn’t swear. It is my conviction that the Riders 
wouldn’t say he was guilty to-day if they hadn’t said so five years ago. 
It is my information that he has paid every cent of the damages, 
whether he caused thejn or not, and it is my intention to go and cull 


THE DESERTER. 


41 


upon Mr. Hayne as soon as he’s settled. I don’t propose to influence 
any man in his action ; and excuse me, Buxton, I think you d^d.” 

The captain looked wrathful. Blake was an oddity, of whom he 
rather stood in awe, for there was no mistaking the popularity and 
respect in which he was held in his own regiment. The — ^th was 
somewhat remarkable for being emphatically an outspoken crowd,” 
and for some years, thanks to a leaven of strong and truthful men in 
whom this trait was pronounced and sustained, it had grown to be the 
custom of all but a few of the officers to discuss openly and fully all 
matters of regimental policy and utterly to discountenance covert action 
of any kind. Blake was thoroughly popular, and generally respected, 
despite a tendency to rant and rattle on most occasions. Nevertheless, 
there were signs of dissent as to the line of action he proposed, though 
it were only for his own guidance. 

And how do you suppose Bayner and the Biflers generally will 
regard your calling on their black sheep?” asked Buxton, after a 
pause. 

don’t know,” said Blake, more seriously, and with a tone 
of concern. “ I like Bayner, and have found most of those fellows 
thorough gentlemen and good friends. This will test the question 
thoroughly. I believe most of them, except of course Bayner, would 
do the same were they in my place. At all events, I mean to see.” 

What are you going to do, Gregg ?” asked the mole,” wheeling 
suddenly on his brother troop-commander. 

I don’t know,” said Gregg, doubtfully. I think I’ll ask the 
colonel.” 

What do you suppose he means to do?” 

I don’t know again ; but I’ll bet we all know as soon as he makes 
up his mind ; and he is making up his mind now, — or he’s made it up, 
for there goes Mr. Hayne, and here comes the orderly. Something’s up 
already.” 

Every head was turned to the door-way as the orderly’s step was 
heard in the outer hall, and every voice stilled to hear the message, it 
was so unusual for the commanding officer to send for one of his sub- 
ordinates after the morning meeting. The soldier tapped at the panel, 
and at the prompt Come in” pushed it partly open and stood with one 
white-gloved hand resting on the knob, the other raised to his cap- visor 
in salute. 

Lieutenant Blake ?” he asked, as he glanced around. 

4 * 


42 


THE DESERTER. 


What is it asked Blake, stepping quickly from the window. 

“ The commanding officer’s compliments, sir, and could he see the 
lieutenant one minute before the court meets ?” 

Coming at once,” said Blake, as he pushed his way through the 
chairs, and the orderly faced about and disappeared. 

I’ll bet it’s about Hayne,” was the apparently unanimous senti- 
ment as the cavalry party broke up and scattered for the morning’s 
duties. Some waited purposely to hear. 

The adjutant alone stood in the colonel’s presence as Blake knocked 
and entered. All others had gone. There was a moment’s hesita- 
tion, and the colonel paused and looked his man over before he spoke : 

You will excuse my sending for you, Mr. Blake, when I tell you 
that it is a matter that has to be decided at once. In this case you 
will consider, too, that I want you to say yes or no exactly as you 
would to a comrade of your own grade. If you were asked to meet 
Mr. Hayne at any other house in the garrison than mine, would you 
desire to accept? You are aware of all the circumstances, the adjutant 
tells me.” 

I am, sir, and have just announced my intention of calling upon 
him.” 

Then will you dine with us this evening to meet Mr. Hayne ?” 

I will do so with pleasure, sir.” 

It could hardly have been an hour afterwards when Mrs. Bayner 
entered the library in her cosey home and found Miss Travers enter- 
taining herself with a book. 

‘^Have you written to Mr. Van Antwerp this morning?” she 
asked. I thought that was what you came here for.” 

I did mean to, but Mrs. Waldron has been here, and I was in- 
terrupted.” 

It is fully fifteen minutes since she left, Nellie. You might have 
written two or three pages already ; and you know that all manner of 
visitors will be coming in by noon.” 

I was just thinking over something she told me. I’ll write 
presently.” 

^^Mrs. Waldron is a woman who talks about everything and every- 
body. I ad“ise you to listen to her no more than you cfin help. What 
was it she told you ?” 


THE DESERTER 


43 


Miss Travers smiled roguishly: ^^Why should you want to know 
Kate, if you disapprove of her revelations 

Oh,” with visible annoyance, it is to — I wanted to know so as 
to let you see that it was something unfounded, as usual.” 

She said she had just been told that the colonel was going to give 
a dinner-party this evening to Mr. Hayne.” 

“Whatf; 

She — said — she — had — just — been — told — that — the colonel — was 
going — to give — a dinner-party — this evening — to Mr. Hayne.” 

''Who told her?” * \ 

" Kate, I didn’t ask.” 

" Who are invited ? None of (Mrs , 

" Kate, I don’t know.” 

" Where did she say she had heard it ?” 

" She didn’t say.” 

Mrs. Rayner paused one moment, irresolute : " Didn’t she tell you 
anything more about it ?” 

" Nothing, sister mine. Why should you feel such an interest in 
what Mrs. Waldron says, if she’s such a gossip?” And Miss Travers 
was evidently having hard work to keep from laughing outright. 

" You had better write your letter,” said her big sister, and flounced 
suddenly out of the room and up the stairs. 

A moment later she was at the parlor door with a wrap thrown over 
her. shoulders ; " If Captain Rayner comes in, tell him I want particu- 
larly to see him before he goes out again.” 

" Where are you going, Kate ?” 

" Oh, just over to Mrs. Waldron’s a moment.” 


IV. 

Facing the broad, bleak prairie, separated from it only by a rough, 
unpainted picket fence, and flanked by uncouth structures of pine, one 
of which was used as a storehouse for quartermaster’s projierty, the 
other as the post-trader’s depository for skins and furs, there stood the 
frame cottage which Mr. Hayne had chosen as his home. As has been 
said, it was precisely like those built for the subaltern officers, so far as 
material, plan, and dimensions were concerned. The locality made the 
vast diflerence which really existed. Theirs stood all in a row, fronting 
the grassy level of the parade, surrounded by verandas, bordering on a 


44 


THE DESERTER, 


well-kept gravel path and an equally well graded drive. Clear, spark- 
ling water rippled in tiny acequias through the front yards of each, and 
so furnished the moisture needed for the life of various little shrubs 
and flowering plants. The surroundings were at least sociable,” and 
there was companionship and jollity, with an occasional tiff to keep 
things lively. The married officers, as a rule, had chosen their ([uarters 
farthest from the entrance-gate and nearest those of the colonel com- 
manding. The bachelors, except the two or three who were old in the 
service and had ^^rank” in lieu of encumbrances, were all herded to- 
gether along the eastern end, a situation that had disadvantages as con- 
nected with duties which required the frequent presence of the occupants 
at the court-martial rooms or at head-quarters, and that was correspond- 
ingly distant from the barracks of the soldiers. It had its recom- 
mendations in being conyenient to the card-room and billiard-tables at 
the store,” and in embracing within its limits one house which pos- 
sessed mysterious interest in the eyes of every woman and most of the 
men in the garrison : it was said to be haunted. 

A sorely-perplexed man was the post quartermaster when the rumor 
came out from the railway-station that Mr. Hayne had arrived and was 
coming to report for duty. As a first lieutenant he would have choice 
of quarters over every second lieutenant in the garrison : there were ten 
of these young gentlemen, and four of the ten were married. Every 
set of quarters had its occupants, and Hayne could move in nowhere^ 
unless as occupant of a room or two in the house of some comrade, 
without first compelling others to move out. This proceeding would 
lead to vast discomfort, occurring as it would in the dead of winter, 
and the youngsters were naturally perturbed in spirit, — their wives 
especially so. What made the prospects infinitely worse was the fact 
that the cavalry bachelors w^re already living three in a house : the 
only spare rooms were in the quarters of tne second lieutenants of 
the infantry, and they were not on speaking-terms with Mr. Hayne. 
Everything, therefore, pointed to the probability of his displacing” 
a junior, who would in turn displace somebody else, and so they 
would go tumbling like a row of bricks until the lowest and last was 
reached. All this would involve no end of worry for the quarter- 
master, who even under the most favorable circumstances is sure to 
be the least appreciated and most abused officer under the comman- 
dant himself, and that worthy was simply agasp with relief and joy 


THE DESERTER, 


46 


when he jeard Mr. Hayne’s astonishing announcement that he would 
take the quarters out on Prairie Avenue.^’ 

It was the talk of the garrison all that day. The ladies, especially, 
had a good deal to say, because many of the men seemed averse to ex- 
pressing their views. Quite the proper thing for Mr. Hayne to do,^' 
was the apparent opinion of the majority of the young wives and 
mothers. As a particularly kind and considerate thing it was not re- 
5 marked by one of them, though that view of the case went not entirely 
unrepresented. In choosing to live there Mr. Hayne separated himself 
from companionship. That, said some of the commentators, — men 
as well as women, — he simply accepted as the virtue of necessity, and 
so there was nothing to commend in his action. But Mr. Hayne was 
said to possess an eye for the picturesque and beautiful. If so, he 
deliberately condemned himself to the daily contemplation of a treeless 
barren, streaked in occasional shallows with dingy patches of snow, 
ornamented only in spots by abandoned old hats, boots, or tin cans 
blown beyond the jurisdiction of the garrison police-parties. A line 
of telegraph-poles was all that intervened between his fence and the 
low-lying hills of the eastern horizon. Southeastw^ard lay the distant 
roofs and the low, squat buildings of the frontier town ; southward the 
shallow valley of the winding creek in w4iich lay the long line of 
stables for the cavalry and the great stacks of hay ; while the row on 
which he chose to live — Prairie Avenue,’’ as it was termed — was far 
worse at his end of it than at the other. It covered the -whole eastern 
front. The big, browm hospital building stood at the northern end. 
Then came the quarters of the surgeon and his assistants, then the 
snug home of the post trader, then the store” and its scattering 
appendages, then the entrance-gateway, then a broad vacant space, 
through which the wind swept like a hurricane, then the little shanty 
of the trader’s fur house and one or two hovel-like structures used by 
the tailors and cobbler of the adjacent infantry companies. Then came 
the cottage itself: south of it stood the quartermaster’s store-room, 
back of which lay an extension filled with ordnance stores, then other 
and similar sheds devoted to commissary supplies, the post butcher- 
shop, the saddler’s shop, then big coal-sheds, and then the brow of the 
bluif, down which at a steep grade plunged the road to the stables. It 
was as unprepossessing a place for a home as ever was chosen by a man 
of education or position ; and Mr. Hayne was possessed of both. 

In garrison, despite the flat parade, there was a grand expanse of 


46 


THE DESERTEn, 


country to be seen stretching away towards the snow-covered Eochies. 
There was life and the sense of neighborliness to one^s kind. Out on 
Prairie Avenue all was wintry desolation, except when twice each day 
the cavalry officers went plodding by on their way to and from the 
stables, muffled up in their fur caps and coats, and hardly distinguish- 
able from so many bears, much less from one another. 

And yet Mr. Hayne smiled not unhappily as he glanced from his 
eastern window at this group of burly warriors the afternoon succeed- 
ing his dinner at the coloneFs. He had been busy all day long un- 
packing Hx)ks, book-shelves, some few pictures which he loved, and his 
simple, soldierly outfit of household goods, and getting them into shape. 
His sole assistant was a Chinese servant, who worked rapidly and w'ell, 
and who seemed in no wise dismayed by the bl^kness of their sur- 
roundings. If anything, he was disposed to grin and indulge in high- 
pitched commentaries in pidgin English^^ upon the unaccustomed 
amount of room. His master had been restricted to two rooms and a 
kitchen during the two years he had served him. Now they had a 
house to themselves, and more rooms than they knew what to do with. 
The quartermaster had sent a detail of men to put up the stoves and 
move out the rubbish left by the tailors ; Sam’’ had worked vigor- 
ously with soft soap, hot water, and a big mop in sprucing up the 
rooms ; the adjutant had sent a little note during the morning, saying 
that the colonel would be glad to order him any men he needed to put 
the quarters in proper shape, and that Captain Rayner had expressed 
his readiness to send a detail from the company to unload and unpack 
his boxes, etc., to which Mr. Hayne replied in person that he thanked 
the commanding officer for his thoughtfulness, but that he had very 
little to unpack, and needed no assistance beyond that already afforded 
by the quartermaster’s men. Mr. Billings could not help noting that 
he made no allusion to that part of the letter which spoke of Captain 
Rayner’s offer. It increased his respect for Mr. Hayne’s perceptive 
powers. 

While every officer of the infantry battalion was ready to admit 
that Mr. Hayne had rendered invaluable service to the men of the cav- 
alry regiment, they were not so unanimous in their opinion as to how 
it should be acknowledged and requited by its officers. No one was 
prepared for the announcement that the colonel had asked him to dinner 
and that Blake and Billings were to meet him. Some few of tlieir 
number thought it going tco far, but no one quite coincided with the 


THE DESERTER, 


47 


vehement declaration of Mrs. Rayner that it was an outrage and an 
affront aimed at the regiment in general and at Captain Rayner in par- 
ticular. She was an energetic woman when aroused, and there was no 
doubt of her being very much aroused as she sped from house to house 
to see what the other ladies thought of it. Rayner’s wealth and Mrs. 
Rayner’s qualities had made her an undoubted though not always popu- 
lar leader in all social matters in the Riflers. She was an authority, so 
to speak, and one who knew it. Already there had been some points 
on which she had differed with the colonel’s wife, and it was plain to all 
that it was a difficult thing for her to come down from being the author- 
ity — the leader of the social element of a garrison — and from the po- 
sition of second or third importance which she had been accorded when 
first assigned to the station. There were many, indeed, who asserted 
that it was because she found her new position unbearable that she 
decided on her long visit to the East and departed thither before the 
Riflers had been at Warrener a month. The colonel’s wife had greeted 
her and her lovely sister with charming grace on their arrival two days 
previous to the stirring event of the dinner, and every one was looking 
forward to a probable series of pleasant entertainments by the two 
households, even while wondering how long the entente cordiale would 
last, — when the colonel’s invitation to Mr. Hayne brought on an im- 
mediate crisis. It is safe to say that Mrs. Rayner was madder than the 
captain her husband, who hardly knew how to take it. He was by no 
means the best liked officer in his regiment, nor the deepest” and best 
informed, but he had a native shrewdness which helped him. He noted 
even before his wife would speak of it to him the gradual dying out of 
the bitter feeling that had once existed at Hayne’s expense. He felt, 
though it hurt him seriously to make inquiries, that the man whom 
he had practically crushed and ruined in the long ago was slowly but 
surely gaining strength even where he would not make friends. Worse 
than all, he was beginning to doubt the evidence of his own senses as 
the years receded, and unknown to any soul on earth, even his wife, 
there was growing up deep down in his heart a gnawing, insidious, ever- 
festering fear that after all, after all, he might have been mistaken. 
And yet on the sacred oath of a soldier and a gentleman, against the most 
searching cross-examination, again and again had he most confidently and 
])Ositively declared that he had both seen and heard the fatal interview on 
which the whole case hinged. And as to the exact language employed, 
he alone of those within earshot had lived to testify for or against the ac- 


48 


THE DESERTER. 


cused : of the five soldiers who stood in that now celebrated group, three 
were shot to death within the hour. He was growing nervous, irritable, 
haggard ; he was getting to hate the mere mention of the case. The pro- 
motion of Hayne to his own company thrilled him with an almost super- 
stitious dismay. Were his words coming true ? Was it the judgment of 
an otfended God that his hideous pride, obstinacy, and old-time hatred 
of this officer were now to be revenged by daily, hourly contact with the 
victim of his criminal persecution ? He had grown morbidly sensitive 
to any remarlis as to Hayne’s having lived down’’ the toils in which 
he had been encircled. Might he not live down” the ensnarer ? He 
dreaded to see him, — though Rayner was no coward, — and he feared 
day by day to hear of his restoration to fellowship in the regiment, and 
yet would have given half his wealth to bring it about, could it but have 
been accomplished without the dreadful admission, I was wrong. I 
was utterly wrong.” He had grown lavish in hospitality ; he had become 
almost aggressively open-handed to his comrades, and had sought to 
press money upon men who in no wise needed it. He was as eager to 
lend as some are to borrow, and his brother officers dubbed him Mi- 
das” not because everything he touched would turn to gold, but because 
he would intrude his gold upon them at every turn. There were some 
who borrowed ; and these he struggled not to let repay. He seemed to 
have an insane idea that if he could but get his regimental friends 
bound to him pecuniarily he could control their opinions and ac- 
tions. It was making him sick at heart, and it made him in secret 
doubly vindictive and bitter against the man he had doomed to years 
of suffering. This showed out that very morning. Mrs. Rayner had 
begun to talk, and he turned fiercely upon her : 

Not a word on that subject, Kate, if you love me ! — not even the 
mention of his name ! I must have peace in my own house. It is 
enough to have to talk of it elsewhere.” 

Talk of it he had to. The major early that morning asked him, 
as they were going to the matinee , — 

Have you seen Hayne yet ?” 

^^Not since he reported on the parade yesterday,” was the curt 
reply. 

Well, I suppose you will send men to help him get those quarters 
in habitable shape ?” 

I will, of course, major, if he ask it. I don’t propose sending 
men to do such work for an officer unless the request come.” 


THE DESERTER, 


49 


“ He is entitled to that consideration, Rayner, and I think the men 
should be sent to him. He is hardly likely to ask.^^ 

Then he is less likely to get them,^^ said the captain, shortly, for, 
except the post commander, he well knew that no officer could order it 
to be done. He was angry at the major for interfering. They were old 
associates, and had entered service almost at the same time, but his friend 
had the better luck in promotion and was now his battalion commander. 
Rayner made an excuse of stopping to speak with the officer of the 
day, and the major went on without him. He was a quiet old soldier : 
he wanted no disturbance with his troubled friend, and, like a sensible 
man, he turned tlie matter over to their common superior, in a very 
few words, before the arrival of the general audience. It was this that 
had caused the colonel to turn quietly to Rayner and say, in the most 
matter-of-fact way, — 

Oh, Captain Rayner, I presume Mr. Hayne will need three or 
four men to help him get his quarters in shape. I suppose you have 
already thought to send them 

And Rayner flushed, and stammered, ^^They have not gone yet, 
sir ; but I had — thought of it.^^ 

Later, when the sergeant sent the required detail he reported to 
the captain in the company office in five minutes : The lieutenant’s 
compliments and thanks, but he does not need the men.” 

The dinner at the colonel’s, quiet as it was and with only eight at 
table, was an affair of almost momentous importance to Mr. Hayne. 
It was the first thing of the kind he had attended in five years ; and 
though he well know that it was intended by the cavalry commander 
more especially as a recognition of the services rendered their suffering 
men, he could not but rejoice in the courtesy and tact with which he 
was received and entertained. The colonel’s wife, the adjutant’s, and 
those of two captains away with the field battalion, were the four ladies 
who were there to greet him when, escorted by Mr. Blake, he made 
his appearance. How long — how very long — it seemed to him since 
he had sat in the presence of refined and attractive women and listened 
to their gay and animated chat ! They seemed all such good friends, 
they made him so thoroughly at home, and they showed so much tact 
and ease, that never once did it seem apparent that they knew of his 
trouble in his own regiment ; and yet there was no actual avoidance of 
matters in which the Riflers were generally interested. It was mainly 
of his brief visit to the East, however, that they made him talk, — of the 
C 5 


50 


THE DESERTER. 


operas and theatres he had attended, the pictures he had seen, the music 
that was most popular ; and when dinner was over their hostess led 
him to her piano, and he played and sang for them again and again. 
His voice was soft and sweet, and, though it was uncultivated, he sang 
with expression and grace, playing with more skill but less feeling and 
effect than he sang. Music and books had been the solace of lonely 
years, and he could easily see that he had pleased them with his songs. 
He went home to the dreary rookery out on Prairie Avenue and 
laughed at the howling wind. The bare grimy walls and the dim 
kerosene lamp, even Sam’s unmelodious snore in the back room, sent 
no gloom to his soul. It had been a happy evening. It had cost him 
a hard struggle to restrain the emotion which he had felt at times ; 
and when he withdrew, soon after the trumpets sounded tattoo, and the 
ladies fell to discussing him, as women will, there was but one verdict, 
— his manners were perfect. 

But the colonel said more than that. He had found him far better 
read than any other officer of his age he had ever met ; and one and all 
they expressed the hope that they might see him frequently. No wonder 
it was of momentous importance to him. It was the opening to a new 
life. It meant that here at least he had met soldiers and gentlemen 
and their fair and gracious wives who had welcomed him to their 
homes, and, though they must have known that a pall of suspicion and 
crime had overshadowed his past, they believed either that he was 
innocent of the grievous charge or that his years of exile and suffering 
had amply atoned. It was a happy evening indeed to him ; but there 
was gloom at Captain Rayner’s. 

The captain himself had gone out soon after tattoo. He found that 
the parlor was filled with young visitors of both sexes, and he was in 
no mood for merriment. Miss Travers was being welcomed to the 
post in genuine army style, and was evidently enjoying it. Mrs. 
Rayner was flitting nervously in and out of the parlor with a cloud 
upon her brow, and for once in her life compelled to preserve temporary 
silence upon the subject uppermost in her thoughts. She had been 
forbidden to speak of it to her husband ; yet she knew he had gone out 
again with every probability of needifig some one to talk to about the 
matter. She could not well broach the topic in the parlor, because she 
was not at all sure how Captain and Mrs. Gregg of the cavalry would 
take it ; and they were still there. She was a loyal wife ; her husband’s 
quarrel was hers, and more too; and she was a woman of .intuition 


THE DESERTER. 


5 ] 


even keener than that which we so readily accord the sex. She knew, 
and knew well, that a hideous doubt had been preying for a long time 
in her husband’s heart of hearts, and she knew still better that it would 
crush him to believe it was even suspected by any one else. Right or 
wrong, the one thing for her to do, she doubted not, was to maintain 
the original guilt against all comers, and to lose no opportunity of feed- 
ing the flame that consumed Mr. Hayne’s record and reputation. He 
was guilty, — he must be guilty ; and though she was a Christian accord- 
ing to her view of the case, — a pillar of the Church in matters of public 
charity and picturesque conformity to all the rubric called for in the 
services, and much that it did not, — she was unrelenting in her condem- 
nation of Mr. Hayne. To those who pointed out that he had made every 
atonement man could make, she responded with the severity of conscious 
virtue that there could be no atonement without repentance, and no 
repentance without humility. Mr. Hayne’s whole attitude was that of 
stubborn pride and resentment ; his atonement was that enforced by the 
unanimous verdict of his comrades ; and even if it were so that he had 
more than made amends for his crime, the rules that held good for 
ordinary sinners were not applicable to an officer of the army. He 
must be a man above suspicion, incapable of wrong or fraud, and once 
stained he was forever ineligible as a gentleman. It was a subject on 
which she waxed declamatory rather too often, and the youngsters of 
her own regiment wearied of it. As Mr. Foster once expressed it in 
speaking of this very case, Mrs. Rayner can talk more charity and 
show less than any woman I know.” So long as her talk was aimed 
against any lurking tendency of their own to look upon Hayne as a 
possible martyr, it fell at times on unappreciative ears, and she was 
quick to see it and to choose her hearers ; but here was a new phase, — 
one that might rouse the latent esprit de corps of the Riflers, — and she 
was bent on striking while the iron was hot. If anything would 
provoke unanimity of action and sentiment in the regiment, this public 
recognition by the cavalry, in their very presence, of the man they cut 
ai3 a criminal, was the thing of all others to do it ; and she meant to 
head the revolt. 

Possibly Gregg and his modest helpmeet discovered that there was 
something she desired to spring” upon the meeting. The others present 
we”e all of the infantry ; and when Captain Rayner simply glanced in, 
spoke hurried good -evenings, and went as hurriedly out again, Gregg 


52 


THE DESERTER. 


was sure of it, and marched his wife away. Then came Mrs. Rayner's 
opportunity : 

If it were not Captain Rayner’s house, I could not have been 
even civil to Captain Gregg. You heard what he said at the club this 
morning, I suppose?” 

In one form or another, indeed, almost everybody had heard. The 
officers present maintained an embarrassed silence. Miss Travers 
looked reproachfully at her flushed sister, but to no purpose. At last 
one of the ladies remarked, — 

Well, of course I heard of it, but — IVe heard so many different 
versions. It seems to have grown somewhat since morning.” 

‘^It sounds just like him, however,” said Mrs. Rayner, '^^nd I 
made inquiry before speaking of it. He said he meant to invite Mr. 
Hayne to his house to-morrow evening, and if the infantry didn’t like 
it they could stay away.” 

‘^Well, now, Mrs. Rayner,” protested Mr. Foster, ^^of course 
none of us heard what he said exactly, but it is my experience that 
no conversation was ever repeated without being exaggerated, and I’ve 
Known old Gregg for ever so long, and never heard him say a sharp 
thing yet. Why, he’s the mildest-mannered fellow in the whole — th 
Cavalry. He would never get into such a snarl as that would bring 
about him in five minutes.” 

‘‘Well, he said he would do just as the colonel did, anyway, — we 
have that straight from cavalry authority, — and we all know what the 
colonel has done. He has chosen to honor Mr. Hayne in the presence 
of the officers who denounce him, and practically defies the opinion of 
the Riflers.” 

“ But, Mrs. Rayner, I did not understand Gregg’s remarks to be 
what you say, exactly. Blake told me that when asked by somebody 
whether he was going to call on Mr. Hayne, Gregg simply replied he 
didn’t know, — he would ask the colonel.” 

“ Very well. That means, he proposes to be guided by the colonel, 
or nothing at all ; and Captain Gregg is simply doing what the others 
will do. They say to us, in so many words, ‘ We prefer the society of 
your hUe noire to your own.’ That’s the way I look at it,” said Mrs. 
Rayner, in deep excitement. 

It was evident that, though none were prepared to endorse so ex- 
treme a view, there was a strong feeling that the colonel had put an 
afiiont upon the Riflers by his open welcome to Mr. Hayne. He had 


THE DESERTER, 


53 


been exacting before, and had caused a good deal of growling among the 
officers and comment among the women. They were ready to find 
fault, and here was strong provocation. Mr. Foster was a youth of 
unfortunate and unpopular propensities. He should have held his 
tongue, instead of striving to stem the tide. 

I donT uphold Hayne any more than you do, Mrs. Rayner, but 
it seems to me this is a case where the colonel has to make some ac- 
knowledgment of Mr. Hayne’s conduct 

Very good. Let him write him a letter, then, thanking him in 
the name of the regiment, but don’t pick him up like this in the face 
of ours,” interrupted one of the juniors, who was seated near Miss 
Travers (a wise stroke of policy : Mrs. Rayner invited him to break- 
fast) ; and there was a chorus of approbation. 

Well, hold on a moment,” said Foster. Hasn’t the colonel had 
every one of us to dinner more or less frequently ?” 

Admitted. But what’s that to do with it ?” 

Hasn’t he invariably invited each officer to dine with him in every 
case where an officer has arrived ?” 

Granted. But what then ?” 

‘^If he broke the rule or precedent in Mr. Hayne’s case would 
he not practically be saying that he endorsed the views of the court- 
martial as opposed to those of the department commander. General 
Sherman, the Secretary of War, the President of the United ” 

‘^Oh, make out your transfer papers, Foster. You ought to be in 
the cavalry or some other disputatious branch of the service,” burst in 
Mr. Graham. 

“ I declare, Mr. Foster, I never thought you would abandon your 
colors,” said Mrs. Rayner. 

I haven’t, madame, and you’ve no right to say so,” said Foster, in- 
dignantly. I simply hold that any attempt to work up a regimental 
row out of this thing will make bad infinitely worse, and I deprecate 
the whole business.” 

I suppose you mean to intimate that Captain RaynePs position 
and that of the regiment is bad, — all wrong, — that Mr. Hayne has 
been persecuted,” said Mrs. Rayner, with trembling lips and cheeks 
aflame. 

Mrs. Rayner, you are unjust,” said poor Foster. I ought not 
to have undertaken to explain or defend the colonel’s act, perhaps, but 
T am not disloyal to my regiment or my colors. What I want is to 

5 * 


54 


THE DESERTER. 


prevent further trouble; and I know that anything like a concerted 
resentment of the colonePs invitation, will lead to infinite harm.” 

You may cringe and bow and bear it if you choose; you may 
humble yourself to such a piece of insolence ; but rest assured there are 
plenty of men and women in the Riflers who won’t bear it, Mr. Foster ; 
and for one I won’t.” She had risen to her full height now, and her 
eyes were blazing. For his own sake I trust the colonel will omit 
our names from the next entertainment he gives. Nellie shan’t ” 

Oh, think, Mrs. Rayner !” interrupt^ one of the ladias ; they 
must give her a dinner or a reception.” 

Indeed they shall not ! I refuse to enter the door of people who 
have insulted my husband as they have.” 

Hush ! Listen !” said Mr. Graham, springing towards the door. 

There was wondering silence an instant. 

It is nothing but the trumpet sounding taps,” said Mrs. Rayner, 
hurriedly. 

But even as she spoke they rose to their feet. Muffled cries were 
heard, borne in on the night wind, — a shot, then another, down in the 
ralley, — the quick peal of the cavalry trumpet. 

It isn’t taps. It’s fire !” shouted Graham from the door-way. 
'<Come on !” 

V. 

Down in the valley south of the post a broad glare was already 
shooting upward and illumining the sky. One among a dozen little 
shanties and log houses, the homes of the laundresses of the garrison 
and collectively known as Sudsville, was a mass of flames. There was 
a rush of officers across the parade, and the men, answering the alarum 
of the trumpet and the shots and shouts of the sentries, came tearing 
from their quarters and plunging down the hill. Among the first on 
the spot came the young men who were of the party at Captain Ray- 
ner’s, and Mr. Graham was ahead of them all. It was plain to the 
most inexperienced eye that there was hardly anything left to save in 
or about the burning shanty. All efforts must be directed towards pre- 
venting the spread of the flames to those adjoining. Half-clad women 
and children were rushing about, shrieking with fright and excitement, 
and a few men were engaged in dragging household goods and furniturp 
from those tenements not yet reached by the flames. Fire-apparatus 
there seemed to be none, though squads of men speedily appeared with 


THE DESERTER. 


55 


ladders, axes, and buckets, brought from the different company quarters, 
and the arriving officers quickly formed the bucket-lines and water 
dipped up from the icy creek began to fly from hand to hand. Before 
anything like this was fairly under way, a scene of semi-tragic, semi- 
comic intensity had been enacted in the presence of a rapidly gathering 
audience. It was worth more than the price of admission to hear 
Blake tell it afterwards,’’ said the officers, later. 

A tall, angular woman, frantic with excitement and terror, was 
dancing about in the broad glare of the burning hut, tearing her hair, 
making wild rushes at the flames from time to time as though intent on 
dragging out some prized object that was being consumed before her 
eyes, and all the time keeping up a volley of maledictions and abuse in 
lavish Hibernian, apparently directed at a cowering object who sat in 
limp helplessness upon a little heap of fire-wood, swaying from side to 
side and moaning stupidly through the scorched and grimy hands in 
which his face was hidden. His clothing was still smoking in places : 
his hair and beard were singed to the roots ; he was evidently seriously 
injured, and the sympathizing soldiers who had gathered around him 
after deluging him with snow and water were striving to get him to 
arise and go with them to the hospital. A little girl, not ten years 
old, knelt sobbing and terrified by his side. She, too, was scorched and 
singed, and the soldiers had thrown rough blankets about her ; but it 
was for her father, not herself, she seemed worried to distraction. Some 
of the women were striving to reassure and comfort her in their homely 
fashion, bidding her cheer up, — the father was only stupid from drink, 
and would be all right as soon as the liquor was off of him.” But 
the little one was beyond consolation so long as he could not or would 
not speak in answer to her entreaties. 

All this time, never pausing for breath, shrieking anathemas on her 
drunken spouse, reproaches on her frightened child, and invocations to 
all the blessed saints in heaven to reward the gintleman who had saved 
her hoarded money, — a smoking packet that she hugged to her breast, 
— Mrs. Clancy, ^Hhe saynior laundress of Company B,” as she had 
long styled herself, was prancing up and down through the gathering 
crowd, her shrill voice overmastering all other clamor. The vigorous 
efforts of the men, directed by cool-headed officers, soon beat back the 
flames that were threatening the neighboring shanties, and levelled to 
the ground what remained of Private Clancy’s home. The fire was 
extinguished almost as rapidly as it began, but the torrent of Mrs. 


56 


THE DESERTER. 


Clancy’s eloquence was still unstemmed. The adjurations of sympa- 
thetic sisters to “ Howld yer whist/’ the authoritative admonition of 
some old sergeant to Stop your infernal noise,” and the half-maudlin 
yet appealing glances of her suffering lord were all insufficient to check 
her. It was not until the quiet tones of the colonel were heard that she 
began to cool down : We’ve had enough of this, Mrs. Clancy : be still, 
now, or we’ll have to send you to the hospital in the coal-cart.” Mrs. 
Clancy knew that the colonel was a man of few words, and believed him 
to be one of less sentiment. She was afraid of him, and concluded it 
time to cease threats and abuse and come down to the more effective rdle 
of wronged and suffering womanhood, — a feat which she accomplished 
with the consummate ease of long practice, for the rows in the Clancy 
household were matters of garrison notoriety. The surgeon, too, had 
come, and, after quick examination of Clancy’s condition, had directed 
him to be taken at once to the hospital ; and thither his little daughter 
insisted on following him, despite the efforts of some of the women to 
detain her and dress her properly. 

Before returning to his quarters the colonel desired to know some- 
thing of the origin of the fire. There was testimony enough and to 
spare. Every woman in Sudsville had a theory to express, and was 
eager to be heard at once and to the exclusion of all others. It was 
not until he had summarily ordered them to go to their homes and not 
come near him that the colonel managed to get a clear statement from 
some of the men. 

Clancy had been away all the evening, drinking as usual, and Mrs. 
Clancy was searching about Sudsville as much for sympathy and 
listeners as for him. Little Kate, who knew her father’s haunts, had 
guided him home, and was striving to get him to his little sleeping- 
corner before her mother’s return, when in his drunken helplessness he 
fell against the table, overturning the kerosene lamp, and the curtains 
were all aflame in an instant. It was just after taps — or ten o’clock — 
when Kate’s shrieks aroused the inmates of Sudsville and started the 
cry of Fire.” The flimsy structure of pine boards burned like so 
ranch tinder, and the child and her stupefied father had been dragged 
forth only in time to save their lives. The little one, after giving the 
alarm, had rushed again into the house and was tugging at his senseless 
form when rescue came for both, — none too soon. As for Mrs. Clancy, 
at the first note of danger she had rushed screaming to the spot, but 
only in time to see the whole interior ablaze and to howl frantically 


THE DESERTER. 


67 


lor some man to save her money, — it was all in the green box under 
^ the bed. For husband and child she had for the moment no thought. 

I They were safely out of the fire by the time she got there, and she 
I screamed and fought like a fury against the men who held her back 
I when she would have plunged into the midst of it. It took but a 
j minute for one or two men to burst through the flimsy wall with axes, 
to rescue the burning box and knock off the lid. It was a sight to see 
j when the contents were handed to her. She knelt, wept, prayed, counted 
over bill after bill of smoking, steaming greenbacks, until suddenly 
recalled to her senses by the eager curiosity and the remarks of some 
of her fellow-women. That she kept money and a good deal of it in 
her quarters had long been suspect^ and as fiercely denied ; but no 
one had dreamed of such a sum as was revealed. In her frenzy she 
had shrieked that the savings of her lifetime were burning, — that 
there was over three thousand dollars in the box ; but she hid her 
treasure and gasped and stammered and swore she was talking wild- 
like.’’ They was nothing but twos and wans,” she vowed ; yet there 
were women there who declared that they had seen tens and twenties as 
she hurried them through her trembling fingers, and Sudsville gossiped 
and talked for two hours after she was led away, still moaning and 
shivering, to the bedside of poor Clancy, who was the miserable cause 
of it all. The colonel listened to the stories with such patience as could 
be accorded to witnesses who desired to give prominence to their per- 
sonal exploits in subduing the flames and rescuing life and property. 

It was not until he and the group of officers with him had been en- 
gaged some moments in taking testimony that something was elicited 
which caused a new sensation. 

It was not by the united efforts of Sudsville that Clancy and Kate 
had been dragged from the flames, but by the individual dash and de- 
termination of a single man : there was no discrepancy here, for the 
ten or a dozen who were wildly rushing about the house made no effort 
to burst into it until a young soldier leaped through their midst into 
the blazing door-way, was seen to throw a blanket over some object 
within, and the next minute appeared again, dragging a body through .. 
the flames. Then they had sprung to his aid, and between them Kate 
and the ould man” were lifted into the open air. A moment later he 
had handed Mrs. Clancy her packet of money, and — they hadn’t seen 
him since. He was an officer, said they,— a new one. They thought 
it must be the new lieutenant of Companv B ; and the colonel looked 
C* 


58 


THE DESERTER. 


quickly around and said a few words to his adjutant, who started up 
the hill forthwith. A group of officers and ladies were standing at the 
brow of the plateau east of the guard-house, gazing down upon the 
scene below, and other ladies, with their escorts, had gatliered on a little 
knoll close by the road that led to Prairie Avenue. It was past these 
that the adjutant walked rapidly away, swinging his hurricane-lamp in 
his hand. 

Which way now, Billings?’^ called one of the cavalry officers in 
the group. 

‘^Over to Mr. Hayne^s quarters,’^ he shouted back, never stopping 
at all. 

A silence fell upon the group at mention of the name. They were 
the ladies from Captain RaynePs and a few of their immediate friends. 
All eyes followed the twinkling light as it danced away eastward towards ' 
the gloomy coal-sheds. Then there was sudden and intense interest. 
The lamp had come to a stand-still, was deposited on the ground, and 
by its dim ray the adjutant could be seen bending over a dark object 
that was half sitting, half reclining at the platform of the shed. Then 
came a shout, Come here, some of you.’^ And most of the men ran 
to the spot. 

For a moment not one word was spoken in the watching group : 
then Miss Travers’s voice was heard : 

What can it be ? Why do they stop there ?” 

She felt a sudden hand upon her wrist, and her sister’s lips at her 
ear : 

Come away, Nellie. I want to go home. Come !” 

But, Kate, I must see what it means.” 

No : come ! It’s — it’s only some other drunken man, probably. 
Come !” And she strove to lead her. 

But the other ladies were curious too, and all, insensibly, were edging 
over to the east as though eager to get in sight of the group. The re- 
cumbent object had been raised, and was seen to be the dark figure of a 
man whom the others began slowly to lead away. One of the group 
came running back to them : it was Mr. Foster. 

Come, ladies : I will escort you home, as the others are busy.” 

What is the matter, Mr. Foster?” was asked by half a dozen 
voices. 

It was Mr. Hayne,— badly burned, I fear. He was trying to get 
home after having saved poor Clancy.” 


THE DESERTER. 


69 


You don’t say so! Oh, isn’t there something we can do? Can’t 
we go that way and be of some help ?” was the eager petition of more 
j than one of the ladies. 

“Not now. They will have the doctor in a minute. He has not 
' inhaled flame ; it is all external ; but he was partly blinded and could 
not find his way. He called to Billings when he heard him coming. 
I will get you all home and then go back to him. Come!” And, 
offering his arm to Mrs. Rayner, who was foremost in the direction he 
I (Wanted to go, — the pathway across the parade, — Mr. Foster led them 
on. Of course there was eager talk and voluble sympathy ; but Mrs. 
Rayner spoke not a word. The others crowded around him with 
questions, and her silence passed unnoted except by one. 

The moment they were inside the door and alone. Miss Travers 
turned to her sister : “ Kate, what was this man’s crime ? 


VI. 

An unusual state of affairs existed at the big hospital for several 
days ; Mrs. Clancy had refused to leave the bedside of her beloved 
Mike, and was permitted to remain. For a woman who was notorious 
as a virago and bully, who had beaten little Kate from her babyhood 
and abused and hammered her Michael until, between her and drink, 
he was but the wreck of a stalwart manhood, Mrs. Clancy had de- 
veloped a degree of devotion that was utterly unexpected. In all the 
dozen years of their marital relations no such trait could be recalled ; 
and yet there had been many an occasion within the past few years when 
Clancy’s condition demanded gentle nursing and close attention, — and 
never would have got it but for faithful little Kate. The child idolized 
the broken-down man, and loved him with a tenderness that his weak- 
ness seemed but to augment a thousandfold, while it but served to in- 
furiate her mother. In former years, when he was Sergeant Clancy 
and a fine soldier, many was the time he had intervened to save her 
from an undeserved thrashing ; many a time had he seized her in his 
strong arms and confronted the furious woman with stern reproof. 
Between him and the child there had been the tenderest love, for she 
was all that was left to him of four. In the old days Mrs. Clancy had 
])een the belle of the soldiers’ balls, a fine-looking woman, with indom^ 
itable powers as a dancer and conversationalist and an envied repu- 
tation for outshining all her rivals in dress and adornment. “She 


60 


THE DESERTER. 


would ruin Clancy, that she would/^ was the unanimous opinion of the 
soldiers^ wives; but he seemed to minister to her extravagance with 
unfailing good nature for two or three years. He had been prudent, 
careful of his money, was a Avar-soldier with big arrears of bounty and, 
tradition had it, a consummate skill in poker. He was the moneyed 
man among the sergeants when the dashing relict of a brother non- 
commissioned officer set her widow’s cap for him and won. It did 
not take many years for her to wheedle most of his money away ; l)ut 
there was no cessation to the demand, no apparent limit to the supply. 
Both were growing older, and now it became evident that Mrs. Clancy 
was the elder of the two, and that the artificiality of her charms could 
not stand the test of frontier life. No longer sought as the belle of the 
soldiers’ ball-rooms, she aspired to leadership among their wives and 
families, and was accorded that pre-eminence rather than the fierce 
battle which was sure to follow any revolt. She- became avaricious, — 
some said miserly, — and Clancy miserable. Then began the down- 
ward course. He took to drink soon after his return from a long, hard 
summer’s campaign with the Indians. He lost his sergeant’s stripes 
and went into the ranks. There came a time when the new colonel 
forbade his re-enlistment in the cavalry regiment in which he had 
served so many a long year. He had been a brave and devoted soldier. 
He had a good friend in the infantry, he said, who wouldn’t go back 
on a poor fellow who took a drop too much at times, and, to the sur- 
prise of many soldiers, — officers and men, — he was brought to the re- 
cruiting officer one day, sober, soldierly, and trimly dressed, and Cap- 
tain Rayner expressed his desire to have him enlisted for his company ; 
and it was done. Mrs. Clancy was accorded the quarters and rations 
of a laundress, as was then the custom, and for a time — a very short 
time — Clancy seemed on the road to promotion to his old grade. The 
enemy tripped him, aided by the scoldings and abuse of his wife, and 
he never rallied. Some work was found for him around the quarter- 
master’s shops which saved him from guard-duty or the guard-house. 
The infantry — officers and men — seemed to feel for the poor, broken- 
down old fellow and to lay much of his woe to the door of his wife. 
There was charity for his faults and sympathy for his sorrows, but at 
last it had come to this. He was lying, sorely injured, in the hospital, 
and there were times when he was apparently delirious. At such 
times, said Mrs. Clancy, she alone could manage him ; and she urged 
that no other nurse could do more than excite or irritate him. To the 


THE DESERTER. 


61 


unspeakable ^rief of little Kate, she, too, was driven from the sulferer^s 
bedside and forbidden to come into the room except when her mother 
gave permission. Clancy had originally been carried into the general 
ward with the other patients, but the hospital steward two days after- 
wards told the surgeon that the patient moaned and cried so at night 
that the other sick men could not sleep, and offered to give up a little 
room in his own part of the building. The burly doctor looked sur- 
prised at this concession on the part of the steward, who was a man 
tenacious of every perquisite and one who had made much complaint 
about the crowded condition of the hospital wards and small rooms 
ever since the frozen soldiers had come in. All the same the doctor 
asked for no explanation, but gladly availed himself of the steward's 
offer. Clancy was moved to this little room adjoining the steward’s 
quarters forthwith, and Mrs. Clancy was satisfied. 

Another tiling had happened to excite remark and a good deal of it. 
Nothing shoii; of eternal damnation was Mrs. Clancy’s frantic sentence 
on the head of her unlucky spouse the night of the fire, when she was 
the central figure of the picture and when hundreds of witnesses to her 
words were grouped around. Correspondingly had she called down the 
blessings of the Holy Virgin and all the saints upon the man who res- 
cued and returned to her that precious packet of money. Everybody 
heard her, and it was out of the question for her to retract. Neverthe- 
less, from within an hour after Clancy’s admission to the hospital not 
another word of the kind escaped her lips. She was all patience and 
pity with the injured man, and she shunned all allusion to his pre- 
server and her benefactor. The surgeon had been called away, after 
doing all in his power to make Clancy comfortable, — he was needed 
elsewhere, — and only two or three soldiers and a hospital nurse still 
remained by his bedside, where Mrs. Clancy and little Kate were dry- 
ing their tears and receiving consolation from the steward’s wife. The 
doctor had mentioned a name as he went away, and it was seen that 
Clancy was striving to ask a question. Sergeant Nolan bent down : 

Lie quiet, Clancy, me boy : you miist be quiet, or you’ll move the 
bandages.” 

Who did he say was burned? who was he going to see?” gasped 
the sufferer. 

The new lieutenant, Clancy, — him that pulled ye out. He’s a 
good one, and it’s Mrs. Clancy that’ll tell ye the same.” 

‘‘ Tell him what?” said she, turning about in sudden interest. 


32 


THE DESERTER. 


About the lieutenant’s pulling him out of the fire and saving your 
money.” 

Indeed yes ! The blessings of all the saints be upon his beautiful 
head, and ” 

But who was it ? What was his name, I say ?” vehemently inter- 
rupted Clancy, half raising himself upon his elbow, and groaning with 
the effort. What was his name ? I didn’t see him.” 

Lieutenant Hayne, man.” 

Oh, my God !” gasped Clancy, and fell back as though struck a 
sudden blow. 

She sprang to his side : It’s faint he is. Don’t answer his ques- 
tions, sergeant ! He’s beside himself! Oh, will ye never stop talking 
to him and lave him in pace ? Go away, ali ye’s, — go away, I say, 

or ye’ll dhrive him crazy wid yer Be quiet, Mike ! don’t ye spake 

agin.” And she laid a broad red hand upon his face. He only groaned 
again, and threw his one unbandaged arm across his darkened eyes, as 
though to hide from sight of all. 

From that time on she made no mention of the name that so 
strangely excited her stricken husband ; but the watchers in the hos- 
pital the next night declared that in his ravings Clancy kept calling for 
Lieutenant Hayne. 

Stannard’s battalion of the cavalry came marching into the post two 
days after the fire, and created a diversion in the garrison talk, which 
for one long day had been all of that dramatic incident and its attend- 
ant circumstances. In social circles, among the offtcers and ladies, the 
main topic was the conduct of Mr. Hayne and the injuries he had sus- 
tained as a ( Consequence of his gallant rescue. Among the enlisted men 
and the denizens of Sudsville the talk was principally of the revelation 
of Mrs. Clancy’s hoard of greenbacks. But in both circles a singular 
story was just beginning to creep around, and it was to the effect that 
Clancy had cried aloud and fainted dead away and that Mrs. Clancy 
had gone into hysterics when they were told that Lieutenant Hayne 
was the man to whom the one owed his life and the other her money. 
Some one met Captain Rayner on the sidewalk the morning Stannard 
came marching home, and asked him if he had heard the queer story 
about Clancy. He had not, and it was told him then and there. Ray- 
ner did not even attempt to laugh at it or turn it off in any way. He 
looked dazed, stunned, for a moment, turned very white and old-looking, 
and, hardly saying good-day to his informant, faced about and went 


THE DESERTER. 


63 


straight to his quarters. He was not among the crowd that gathered to 
welcome the incoming cavalrymen that bright, crisp, winter day; and 
that evening Mrs. Rayner went to the hospital to ask what she could do 
for Clancy and his wife. Captain Rayner always expected her to see 
that every care and attention was paid to the sick and needy of his 
company, she explained to the doctor, who could not recall having 
seen her on a similar errand before, although sick and needy of Com- 
pany B were not unknown in garrisons where he had served with them. 
She spent a good while with Mrs. Clancy, whom she had never noticed 
hitherto, much to the laundress’s indignation, and concerning whose 
conduct she had been known to express herself in terms of extreme dis- 
approbation. But in times of suffering such things are forgotten : Mrs. 
Rayner was full of sympathy and interest ; there was nothing she was 
not eager to send them, and no thanks were necessary. She could never 
do too much for the men of her husband’s company. 

Yet there was a member of her husband’s company on whom in 
his suffering neither she nor the captain saw fit to call. Mr. Hayne’s 
eyes were seriously injured by the flames and heat, and he was now 
living in darkness. It might be a month, said the doctor, before he 
could use his eyes again. 

Only think of that poor fellow, all alone out there on that ghastly 
prairie and unable to read !” was the exclamation of one of the cavalry 
ladies in Mrs. Rayner’s presence ; and, as there was an awkward silence 
and somebody had to break it, Mrs. Rayner responded, — 

If I lived on Prairie Avenue I should consider blindness a 
blessing.” 

It was an unfortunate remark. There was strong sympathy develop- 
ing for Hayne all through the garrison. Mrs. Rayner never meant that 
it should have any such significance, but inside of twenty-four hours, 
in course of which her language had been repeated some dozens of times 
and distorted quite as many, the generally accepted version of the story 
was that Mrs. Rayner, so far from expressing the faintest sympathy or 
sorrow for Mr. Hayne’s misfortune, so far from expressing the natural 
gratification which a lady should feel that it was an officer of her regi- 
ment who had reached the scene of danger ahead of the cavalry officer 
of the guard, had said in so many words that Mr. Hayne ought to be 
thankful that blindness was the worst thing that had come to him. 

There was little chance for harmony after that. Many men and 
some women, of course, refused to believe it, and said they felt confident 


64 


THE DESERTER. 


that she had been misrepresented. Still, all knew by this time that Mrs. 
Rayner was bitter against Hayne, and had heard of her denunciation of 
the colonePs action. So, too, had the colonel heard that she openly de- 
clared that she would refuse any invitation extended to her or to her 
sister which might involve her accepting hospitality at his house. These 
things do get around in most astonishing ways. 

Then another complication arose : Hayne, too, was mixing matters. 
The major commanding the battalion, a man in no wise connected with 
his misfortunes, had gone to him and urged, with the doctor’s full cuii- 
sent, that he should be moved over into and become an inmate of his 
household in garrison. He had a big, roomy house. His wife earnestly 
added her entreaties to the major’s, but all to no purpose : Mr. Hayne 
firmly declined. He thanked the major; he rose and bent over the 
lady’s hand and thanked her with a voice that was full of gentleness 
and gratitude ; but he said that he had learned to live in solitude. 
Sam was accustomed to all his ways, and he had every comfort he needed. 
His wants were few and simple. She would not be content, and ui’ged 
him further. He loved reading : surely he would miss his books and 
would need some one to read aloud to him, and there were so many 
ladies in the garrison who would be glad to meet at her house and 
read to him by turns. He loved music, she heard, and there was her 
piano, and she knew several who would be delighted to come and play 
for him by the hour. He shook his head, and the bandages hid the 
tears that came to his smarting eyes. He had made arrangements to 
be read aloud to, he said ; and as for music, that must wait awhile. 
The kind woman retired dismayed, — she could not understand such 
obduracy, — and her husband felt rebuffed. Stannard of the cavalry, 
too, came in with his gentle wife. She was loved throughout the regi- 
ment for her kindliness and grace of mind, as well as for her devo- 
tion to the sick and suffering in the old days of the Indian wars, and 
Stannard had made a similar proffer and been similarly refused, and 
he had gone away indignant. He thought Mr. Hayne too bumptious 
to live ; but he bore no malice, and his wrath was soon over. Many 
of the cavalry officers called in person and tendered their services, and 
were very civilly received, but all offers were positively declined. Just 
what the infantry officers should do was a momentous^ (piestion. That 
they could no longer hold aloof was a matter that was quickly settled, 
and three of their number went through the chill gloaming of the 
wintry eve and sent in their cards by Sam, who ushered them into the 


THE DESERTER. 


65 


cheerless front room, while one of their number followed to the door- 
way which led to the room in rear, in which, still confined to his bed by 
the doctor’s advice, the injured officer was lying. It was Mr. Ross who 
went to the door and cleared his throat and stood in the presence of the 
man to wdiom, more than five years before, he had refused his hand. 
The others listened anxiously : 

Mr. Hayne, this is Ross. I come with Foster and Graham to say 
how deeply we regret your injuries, and to tender our sympathy and our 
services.” 

There was a dead silence for a moment. Foster and Graham stood 
with hearts that beat unaccountably hard, looking at each other in 
perplexity. Would he never reply ? 

The answer came at last, — a question ; 

“ To what injuries do you allude, Mr. Ross?” 

Even in the twilight they could see the sudden flush of the Scotch- 
man’s cheek. He was a blunt fellow, but, as the senior, had been 
chosen spokesman for the three. The abrupt question staggered him. 
It was a second or two before he could collect himself. 

I mean the injuries at the fire,” he replied. 

This time, no answer whatever. It was growing too painful. 
Ross looked in bewilderment at the bandaged face, and again broke the 
silence : 

We hope you won’t deny us the right to be of service, Mr. Hayne. 
If there is anything we can do that you need,' or would like ” hesi- 

tatingly. 

^^You have nothing further to say?” asked the calm voice from 
the pillow. 

X — don’t know what else we can say,” faltered Ross, after an in- 
stant’s pause. 

The answer came, firm and prompt, but icily cool : 

Then there is nothing that you can do.” 

And the three took their departure, sore at heart. 

There were others of the infantry who had purposed going to see 
Hayne that evening, but the story of Ross’s experience put an end to it 
all. It was plain that even now Mr. Hayne made the condition of the 
faintest advance from his regimental comrades a full confession of error. 
He would have no less. 

That evening the colonel sat by his bedside and had an earnest talk. 
He ventured to expostulate with the invalid on his refusal to go to the 

6 » 


66 


THE DESERTER. 


major’s or to Stannard’s. He could have so many comforts aud deli- 
cacies there that would be impossible here. He did not refer to edibles 
and drinkables alone, he said, with a smile ; but Hayne’s patient face 
gave no sign of relenting. He heard the colonel through, and then 
said, slowly and firmly, — 

I have not acted hastily, sir : I appreciate their kindness, and am 
not ungrateful. Five years ago my whole life was changed. From 
that time to this I have done without a host of things that used to be 
indispensable, and have abjured them one and all for a single luxury 
that I cannot live without, — ^the luxury of utter independence, — the 
joy of knowing that I owe no man anything, — the blessing of being 
beholden to no one on earth for a single service I cannot pay for. It 
is the one luxury left me.” 

VII. 

It was a clear winter’s evening, sharply cold, about a week after the 
fire, when, as Mrs. Rayner came down the stairway equipped for a 
walk, and was passing the parlor door without stopping. Miss Travers 
caught sight of and called to her, — 

Are you going walking, Kate ? Do wait a moment, and I’ll go 
with you.” 

Any one in the hall could have shared the author’s privilege and 
seen the expression of annoyance and confusion that appeared on Mrs. 
Rayner’s face : 

I thought you were out. Did not Mr. Graham take you walking ?” 

^^He did; but we wandered into Mrs. Waldron’s, and she and 
tlie major begged us to stay, and we had some music, and then the first 
call sounded for retreat, and Mr. Graham had to go, so he brought me 
home. I’ve had no walk, and need exercise.” 

“ But I don’t like you to be out after sunset. That cough of 
yours ” 

Disappeared the day after I got here, Kate, and there hasn’t been 
a vestige of it since. This high, dry climate put an end to it. No, 
I’ll be ready in one minute more. Do wait.” 

Mrs. Rayner’s hand was turning the knob while her sister was 
hurrying to the front door and drawing on her heavy jacket as she did 
so. The former faced her impatiently : 

‘^I don’t think you are at all courteous to your visitors. You 


THE DESERTER. 


67 


know just as well as I do that Mr. Foster or Mr. Royce or some other 
of* those young officers are sure to be in just at this hour. You really 
are very thoughtless, Nellie.’^ 

Miss Travers stopped short in her preparations. 

Kate Rayner,’’ she began, impressively, it was only night before 
last that you rebuked me for sitting here with Mr. Blake at this very 
hour, and asked me how I supposed Mr. Van Antwerp would like it. 
Now you 

“ F udge ! I cannot stay and listen to such talk. If you must go, 
wait a few minutes until I get back. I — I want to make a short call. 
Then I’ll take you.” 

“ So do I want to make a short call, — over at the doctor’s ; and 
you are going right to the hospital, are you not ?” 

How do you know I am ?” asked Mrs. Rayner, reddening. 

‘‘ You do go there every evening, it seems to me.” 

I don’t. Who told you I did ?” 

Several people mentioned your kindness and attention to the 
Clancys, Kate. I have heard it from many sources.” 

I wish people would mind their own affairs,” wailed Mrs. Ray- 
ner, peevishly. 

“ So do I, Kate ; but they never have, and never will, especially 
with an engaged girl. I have more to complain of than you, but it 
doesn’t make me forlorn, whereas you look fearfully worried about 
nothing.” 

Who says I’m worried ?” asked Mrs. Rayner, with sudden vehe- 
mence. 

You look worried, Kate, and haven’t been at all like yourself for 
several days. Now, why shouldn’t I go to the hospital with you? 
Why do you try to hide your going from me ? Don’t you know that 
I must have heard the strange stories that are flitting about the garrison? 
Haven’t I asked you to set me right if I have been told a wrong one? 
Kate, you are fretting yourself to death about something, and the cap- 
tain looks worried and ill. I cannot but think it has some connection 
with the case of Mr. Hayne. Why should the Clancys ” 

You have no right "to think any such thing,” answered her sister, 
ano-rily. We have suffered too much at his hands or on his account 
already, and I never want to hear such words from your lips. It 
would outrage Caj)tain Rayner to hear that my sister, to whom he has 


68 


THE DESERTER. 


given a home and a welcome, was linking herself with those who side 
with that — that thief/^ 

Kate ! Oh, how can you use such words ? How dare you speak 
so of an officer? You would not tell me what he was accused of; but 

I tell you that if it be theft I don’t believe it, — and no one else ” 

There was a sudden footfall on the porch without, and a quick, 
sharp, imperative knock at the door. Mrs. Rayner fled back along the 
hall towards the dining-room. Miss Travers, hesitating but a second, 
opened the door. 

It was the soldier telegraph-operator, with a despatch-envelope in his 
hand : 

It is for Mrs. Rayner, miss, and an answer is expected. Shall I 
wait ?” 


Mrs. Rayner came hastily forward from her place of refuge within 
the dining-room, took the envelope without a word, and passed into 
the parlor, where, standing beneath the lamp, she tore it open, glanced 
anxiously at its contents, then threw it with an exclamation of peevish 
indignation upon the table : 

You’ll have to answer for yourself, Kellie. I cannot straighten 
your affairs and mine too.” And with that she was going ; but Miss 
Travers called her back. 

The message simply read, No letter in four days. Is anything 
wrong ? Answer paid,” and was addressed to Mrs. Rayner and signed 

S. V. A. 


“ I think you have been extremely neglectful,” said Mrs. Rayner, 
who had turned and now stood watching the rising color and impa- 
tiently tapping foot of her younger sister. Miss Travers bit her lips 
and compressed them hard. There was an evident struggle in her 
mind between a desire to make an impulsive and sweeping reply and 
an effort to control herself. 

Will you answer a quiet question or two?” she finally asked. 

You know perfectly well I will,” was the sisterly rejoinder. 

How long does it take a letter to go from here to New York?” 

Five or six days, I suppose.” 

Miss Travers stepped to the door, briefly told the soldier there was 
no answer, thanked him for waiting, and returned. 

You are not going to reply ?” asked Mrs. Rayner, in amaze. 

I am not ; and I inferred you did not intend to. Now another 
question. How many days have we been here ?” 


THE DESERTER, 


69 

" Eight or nine, — nine, it is.” 

You saw me post a letter to Mr. Van Antwerp as we left the 
Missouri, did you not?” 

Yes. At least I suppose so.” 

I wrote again as soon as we got settled here, three days after that, 
did I not?” 

“ You said you did,” replied Mrs. Rayner, ungraciously. 

“ And you, Kate, when you are yourself have been prompt to declare 
that I say what I mean. Very probably it may have been four days 
from the time that letter from the transfer reached Wall Street to the 
time the next one could get to him from here, even had I written the 
night we arrived. Possibly you forget that you forbade my doing so, 
and sent me to bed early. Mr. Van Antwerp has simply failed to re- 
member that I had gone several hundred miles farther west ; and even 
had I written on the train twice a day, the letters would not have 
reached him uninterruptedly. By this time he is beginning to get 
them fast enough. And as for you, Kate, you are quite as unjust as 
he. It augurs badly for my future peace ; and — I am learning two 
lessons here, Kate.” 

What two, pray ?” 

That he can be foolishly unreliable in estimating a woman.” 

And the other ?” 

That you may be persistently unreliable in your judgment of a 
man.” 

Verily, for a young woman with a sweet, girlish face, whom we 
saw but a week agone twitching a kitten^s ears and saying little or 
nothing. Miss Travers was displaying unexpected fighting qualities. 
For a moment, Mrs. Rayner glared at her in tremulous indignation 
and dismay. 

“You — ^you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” was her eventual 
outbreak. 

But to this there was no reply. Miss Travers moved quietly 
to the door-way, turned and looked her angry sister in the eye, and 
said, — 

“ I shall give up the walk, and will go to my room. Excuse me to 
any visitors this evening.” 

“ You are not going to write to him now, when you are angry, I 
hope ?” 

“ I shall not write to him until to-morrow, but when I do I shall 


70 


THE DESERTER. 


tell him this, Kate : that if he desire my confidence he will address his 
complaints and inquiries to me. If I am old enough to be engaged to 
him, in your opinion, I am equally old enough to attend to such details 
as these, in my own.’’ 

Mrs. Kayner stood one moment as though astounded ; then she flew 
to the door and relieved her surcharged bosom as follows, Well, I 
pity the man you marry, whether you are lucky enough to keep this 
one or not !” and flounced indignantly out of the house. 

When Captain Rayner came in, half an hour afterwards, the 
parlor was deserted. He was looking worn and dispirited. Find- 
ing no one on the ground-floor, he went to the foot of the stairs, and 
called, — 

Kate.” 

A door opened above : Kate has gone out, captain.” 

Do you know where, Nellie ?” 

Over to the hospital, 1 think ; though I cannot say.” 

She heard him sigh deeply, move irresolutely about the hall for a 
moment, then turn and go out. 

At his gate he found two figures dimly visible in the gathering 
darkness : they had stopped on hearing his footstep. One was an 
oflicer in uniform, wrapped in heavy overcoat, with a fur cap, and a 
bandage over his eyes. The other was a Chinese servant, and it was 
the latter who asked, — 

‘^This Maje Waldlon’s?” 

No,” said he, hastily. Major Waldron’s is the third door 
beyond.” 

At the sound of his voice the officer quickly started, but spoke in 
low, measured tone : ^‘Straightahead, Sam.” And the Chinaman led 
him on. 

Rayner stood a moment watching them, bitter thoughts coursing 
through his mind. Mr. Hayne was evidently sufficiently recovered to 
be up and out for air, and now he was being invited again. This time 
it was his old comrade Waldron who honored him. Probably it was 
another dinner. Little by little, at this rate, the time would soon come 
when Mr. Hayne would be asked everywhere and he and his corre- 
spondingly dropped. He turned miserably away, and went back to 
the billiard-rooms at the store. When Mrs. Rayner rang her bell for 
tea that evening he had not reappeared, and she sent a messenger for 
him. 


THE DESERTER. 


71 


It wjis a brilliant moonlit evening. A strong prairie gale had 
begun to blow from the northwest, and was banging shutters and 
whirling pebbles at a furious rate. At the sound of the trumpets wail- 
ing tattoo a brace of young officers calling on the ladies took their 
leave. The captain had retired to his den, or study, where he shut him- 
self up a good deal of late, and thither Mrs. Rayner followed him and 
closed the door after her. Throwing a cloak over her shoulders. Miss 
Travers stepped out on the piazza and gazed in delight upon the moon- 
lit panorama, — ^the snow-covered sumniiits to the south and west, the 
rolling expanse of upland prairie between, the rough outlines of the 
foot-hills softened in the silvery light, the dark shadows of the barracks 
across the parade, the twinkling lights of the sergeants as they took 
their stations, the soldierly forms of the officers hastening to their com- 
panies far across the frozen level. Suddenly she became aware of two 
forms coming down the walk. They issued from Major Waldron’s 
quarters, and the door closed behind them. One was a young officer ; 
the other, she speedily made out, a Chinese servant, who was guiding 
his master. She knew the pair in an instant, and her first impulse was 
to retire. Then she reflected that he could not see, and she wanted to 
look : so she stayed. They had almost reached her gate, when a wild 
blast whirled the officer’s cape about his ears and sent some sheets of 
music flying across the road. Leaving his master at the fence, the 
Chinaman sped in pursuit; and the next thing she noted was that Mr. 
Hayne’s fur cap was blown from his head and that he was groping for 
it helplessly. 

There was no one to call, no one to assist. She hesitated one 
minute, looked anxiously around, then sprang to the gate, picked up 
the cap, pulled it well down over the bandaged eyes, seized the young 
officer firmly by the arm, drew him within the gate, and led him to the 
shelter of the piazza. Once out of the fury of the gale, she could hear 
his question, Did you get it all, Sam ?” 

Not yet,” she answered. Oh, how she longed for a deep contralto ! 

He is coming. He will be here in a moment.” 

‘‘I am so sorry to have been a trouble to you,” he began again, 
vaguely. 

You are no trouble to me. I’m glad I was where I happened to 
see you and could help.” 

He spoke no more for a minute. She stood gazing at all that wa5 
visible of the pale face below the darkened eyes. It was so clear-cut, 


72 


THE DESERTER. 


SO refined in feature, and the lips under the sweeping blonde moustache, 
though set and compressed, were delicate and pink. He turned his 
head eagerly towards the parade ; but Sam was still far away. The 
music had scattered, and was leading him a lively dance. 

Isn’t my servant coming ?” he asked, constrainedly. I fear I’m 
keeping you. Please do not wait. He will find me here. You were 
going somewhere.” 

No, — unless it was here.” She was trembling now. Please be 
patient, Mr. — Mr. Hayne. Sam may be a minute or two yet, and here 
you are out of the wind.” 

Again she looked in his face. He was listening eagerly to her 
words, as though striving to place” her voice. Could she be mis- 
taken? Was he, too, not trembling? Beyond all doubt his lips were 
quivering now. 

“ May I not know who it is that led me here ?” he asked, gently. 

She hesitated, hardly knowing how to tell him. 

^‘Try and guess,” she laughed, nervously. “But you couldn’t. 
You do not know my name. It is my good fortune, Mr. Hayne. You 
— you saved my kitten ; I — your cap.” 

There was no mistaking his start. Beyond doubt he had winced 
as though stung, and was now striving to grope his way to the railing. 
She divined his purpose in an instant, and her slender hand was laid 
pleadingly yet firmly on his arm. 

“Mr. Hayne, don’t go. Don’t think of going. Stay here until 
Sam comes. He’s coming now,” she faltered. 

“ Is this Captain Rayner’s house ?” he asked, hoarse and low. 

“No matter whose it is ! I welcome you here. You shall not go,” 
she cried, impulsively, and both little hands were tugging at his arm. 
He had found the railing, and was pulling himself towards the gate, 
but her words, her clinging hands, were too persuasive. 

“ I cannot realize this,” he said. “ I do not understand ” 

“ Do not try to understand it, Mr. Hayne. If I am only a girl, I 
have a right to think for myself. My father was a soldier, — I am 
Nellie Travers, — and if he were alive I know well he would have had 
me do just what I have done this night. Now won’t you stay ?” 

And light was beaming in through his darkened eyes and glad- 
dening his soul with a rapture he had not known for years. One in- 
stant he seized and clasped her hand. “ May God bless you !” was all 
he whispered, but so softly that even she did not hear him. He bowed 
low over the slender white hand, and stayed. 


THE DESERTER. 


73 


VIII. 


March had come, — the month of gale and bluster, sleet and storm, 
in almost every section of our broad domain, — and March at Warrener 
was to the full as blustering and conscienceless as in New England. 
There were a few days of sunshine during the first week ; then came 
a fortnight of raging snow-storms. The cavalry troops, officers and 
men, went about their stable-duties as usual, but, except for roll-call on 
the porch of the barracks and for guard-mounting over at the guard- 
house, all military exercise seemed suspended. This meant livelier 
times for the ladies, however, as the officers were enabled to devote just 
so many more hours a day to their entertainment. There were two or 
three hops a week over in the big assembly-room, and there was some 
talk of getting up a german in honor of Miss Travers, but the strained 
relations existing between Mrs. Rayner and the ladies of other families 
at the post made the matter difficult of accomplishment. There were 
bright little luncheon-, dinner-, and tea-parties, where the young officers 
and the younger ladies met every day ; and, besides all this, despite the 
fact that Mrs. Rayner had at first shown a fixed determination to dis- 
cuss the rights and wrongs of the Hayne afiair,’^ as it was now be 
ginning to be termed, with all comers who belonged to the Riflers, it had 
grown to be a very general thing for the youngsters to drop in at her 
house at all hours of the day ; but that was because there were attrac- 
tions there which outweighed her combativeness. Then Rayner him- 
self overheard some comments on the mistake she was making, and for- 
l;ade her discussing the subject with the officers even of her own regiment. 
She was indignant, and demanded a reason. He would name no names, 
but told her that he had heard enough to convince him she was doing 
him more harm than good, and, if anything, contributing to the turn 
of the tide in Hayne’s favor. Then she felt outraged and utterly mis- 
judged. It was a critical time for her, and if deprived of tlie use 
of her main weapon of offence and defence the battle was sure to go 
amiss. Sorely against her inclination, she obeyed her lord, for, as has 
been said, she was a loyal wife, and for the time being the baby became 
the recipient of her undivided attention. 

True to her declaration, she behaved so coldly and with such marked 
distance of manner to the colonel and his wife when they met in society 
D 7 


74 


THE DESERTER. 


immediately after the dinner that the colon(;l quietly told his wife she 
need not give either dinner or reception in honor of Mrs. Rayner’s re- 
turn. He would like to have her do something to welcome Miss 
Travers, for he thought the girl had much of her father in her. He 
knew him well in the old days before and during the war, and liked 
him. He liked her looks and her sweet, unaffected, cheery manner. 
He liked the contrast between her and her sister ; for Miss Travers had 
listened in silence to her sister’s exposition of what her manner should 
be to the colonel and his wife, and when they met she was bright and 
winsome. The colonel stood and talked with her about her father, 
whom she could remember only vaguely, but of whom she never tired 
of hearing ; and that night Mrs. Rayner rebuked her severely for her 
disloyalty to the captain, who had given her a home. 

But when Mrs. Rayner heard that Major and Mrs. Waldron had 
invited Mr. Hayne to dine with them, and had invited to meet him two 
of the cavalry officers and their wives, she was incensed beyond meas- 
ure. She and Mrs. Waldron had a brief talk, as a result of which 
Mrs. Rayner refused to speak to Mrs. Waldron at the evening party 
given by Mrs. Stannard in honor of her and her sister. It was this 
that brought on the crisis. Whatever was said between the men was 
not told. Major Waldron and Captain Rayner had a long consulta- 
tion, and they took no one into their confidence; but Mrs. Rayner 
obeyed her husband, went to Mrs. Waldron and apologized for her 
rudeness, and then went with her sister and returned the call of the 
colonel’s wife ; but she chose a bright afternoon, when she knew well 
the lady was not at home. 

She retired from the contest, apparently, as has been said, and took 
much Christian consolation to herself from the fact that at so great a 
sacrifice she was obeying her husband and doing the duty she owed to 
him. In very truth, however, the contest was withdrawn from her by 
the fact that for a week or more after his evening at the Waldrons’ Mr. 
Hayne did not reappear in garrison, and she had no cause to talk about 
him. Officers visiting the house avoided mention of his name. Ladies 
of the cavalry regiment calling upon Mrs. Rayner and Miss Travers 
occasionally spoke of him and his devotion to the men and his bravery 
at the fire, but rather as though they meant in a general way to com- 
pliment the Riflers, not Mr. Hayne ; and so she heard little of the man 
whose existence was so sore a trial to her. What she would have said, 
'what she would have thought, had she known of the meeting between 


THE DESERTER 


75 


him and her guarded Nellie, is beyond us to describe ; but she never 
dreamed of such a thing, and Miss Travers never dreamed of telling 
her, — for the present, at least. Fortunately — or unfortunately — for the 
latter, it was not so much of her relations with Mr. Hayne as of her 
relations with half a dozen young bachelors that Mrs. Rayner speedily 
felt herself compelled to complain. It was a blessed relief to the elder 
sister. Her surcharged spirit was in sore need of an escape-valve. She 
was ready to boil over in the mental ebullition consequent upon Mr. 
Hayne’s reception at the post, and with all the pent-up irritability which 
that episode had generated she could not have contained herself and 
slept. But here Miss Travers came to her relief. Her beauty, her 
winsome waj; s, her unqualified delight in everything that was soldierly, 
speedily rendered her vastly attractive to all the young officers in garri- 
son. Graham and Foster of the infantry, Merton, Webster, and Royce 
of the cavalry, haunted the house at all manner of hours, and the 
captain bade them welcome and urged them to come oftener and stay 
later, and told Mrs. Rayner he wanted some kind of a supper or colla- 
tion every night. He set before his guests a good deal of wine, and 
drank a good deal more himself than he had ever been known to do 
before, and they were keeping very late hours at Rayner’s, for, said the 
captain, I don’t care if Nellie is engaged : she shall have a good time 
while she’s here ; and if the boys know all about it, — goodness knows 
you’ve told them often enough, Kate, — and they don’t mind it, why, 
it’s nobody’s business, — here, at least.” 

What Mr. Van Antwerp might think or care was another matter. 
Rayner never saw him, and did not know him. He rather resented it 
that Van Antwerp had never written to him and asked his consent. As 
Mrs. Rayner’s husband and Nellie’s brother-in-law, it seemed to him he 
stood in loco parentis ; but Mrs. Rayner managed the whole thing her- 
self, and he was not even consulted. If anything, he rather enjoyed the 
contemplation of Van Antwerp’s fidgety frame of mind as described to 
him by Mrs. Rayner about the time it became apparent to her that Nellie 
was enjoying the attentions of which she was so general an object, and 
that the captain was sitting up later and drinking more wine than was 
good for him. She was aware that the very number of Nell’s admirers 
would probably prevent her becoming entangled with any one of them, 
but she needed something to scold about, and eagerly pitched upon this. 
She knew well that she could not comfort her husband in the anxiety 
that was gnawing at his heart-strings, but she was jealous of comfort 


76 


THE DESERTER, 


that might come to him from any other source, and the Lethe of wine 
and jolly companionship she dreaded most of all. Long, long before, 
she had induced him to promise that he would never offer the young 
officers spirits in his house. She would not prohibit wine at table, she 
said ; but she never thought of there coming a time when he himself 
would seek consolation in the glass and make up in quantity what it 
lacked in alcoholic strength. He was impatient of all reproof now, and 
would listen to no talk ; but Nellie was years her junior, — more years 
than she would admit except at such times as these, when she meant to 
admonish ; and Nellie had to take it. 

Two weeks after their arrival at Warrener the burden of Mrs. 
Rayner’s song — morn, noon, and night — was, What would Mr. Van 
Antwerp say if he could but see this or hear that 

Can any reader recall an instance where the cause of an absent lover 
was benefited by the ceaseless warning in a woman’s ear, Remember, 
you’re engaged” ? The hero of antiquity who caused himself to be 
attended by a shadowing slave whispering ever and only, Remember, 
thou art mortal,” is a fine figure to contemplate — at this remote date. 
He, we are told, admitted the need, submitted to the infliction. But 
lives there a woman who will admit that she needs any instruction as 
to what her conduct should be when the lord of her heart is away? 
Lives there a woman who, submitting, because she cannot escape, to 
the constant reminder, Thou art engaged,” will not resent it in her heart 
of hearts and possibly revenge herself on the one alone whom she holds 
at her mercy ? Left to herself, — to her generosity, her conscience, her 
innate tenderness, — ^the cause of the absent one will plead for itself, 
and, if it have even faint foundation, hold its own. With the best 
intentions in the world,” many an excellent cause has been ruined by 
the injudicious urgings of a mother ; but to talk an engaged girl into 
mutiny, rely on the infallibility of two women, — a married sister or a 
maiden aunt. 

Just what Mr. Van Antwerp would have said could he have seen 
the situation at Warrener is perhaps impossible to predict. Just what 
he did say without seeing was, perhaps, the most unwise thing he could 
have thought of: he urged Mrs. Rayner to keep reminding Nellie of 
her promise. His had not been a life of unmixed joy. He was now 
nearly thirty-five, and desperately in love with a pretty girl who had 
simply bewitched him during the previous summer. It was not easy 
to approach her then, he found, for her sister kept vigilant guard ; liut, 


THE DESERTER. 


7 / 


once satisfied of his high connections, his wealth, and his social stand- 
ing, the door was opened, and he was something more than welcomed, 
said the gossips at the Surf House. What his past history had been, 
where and how his life had been spent, were matters of less consequence, 
apparejitly, than what he was now. He had been wild at college, as 
other boys had been, she learned ; he had tried the cattle-business in 
the West, she was told ; but there had been a quarrel with his father, 
a reconciliation, a devoted mother, a long sojourn abroad, — Heidelberg, 
— a sudden summons to return, the death of the father, and then the 
management of a valuable estate fell to the son. There were other 
children, brother and sisters, three in all, but Steven was the first-born 
and the mother’s glory. She was with him at the sea-side, and the 
first thing that moved Nellie Travers to like him was his devotion to 
that white-haired woman who seemed so happy in his care. Between 
that mother and Mrs. Rayner there had speedily sprung up an acquaint^ 
ance. She had vastly admired Nellie, and during the first fortnight of 
their visit to the Surf House had shown her many attentions. The ill- 
ness of a daughter called her away, and Mrs. Rayner announced that 
she, too, was going elsewhere, when Mr. Van Antwerp himself re- 
turned, and Mrs. Rayner decided it was so late in the season that they 
had better remain until it was time to go to town. In October they 
spent a fortnight in the city, staying at the Westminster, and he was 
assiduous in his attentions, taking them everywhere, and lavishing 
flowers and bonbons upon Nell. Then Mrs. Van Antwerp invited 
them to visit her at her own comfortable, old-fashioned house down 
town, and Mrs. Rayner was eager to accept, but Nellie said no; she 
would not do it: she could not accept Mr. Van Antwerp; she liked, 
admired, and was attracted by him, but she felt that love him she did 
not. He was devoted, but had tact and patience, and Mrs. Rayner at 
last yielded to her demand and took her off in October to spend some 
time in the interior of the State with relations of their mother, and 
there, frequently, came Mr. Van Antwerp to see her and to urge his 
suit. They were to have gone to Warrener immediately after the 
holidays, but January came and Nellie had not surrendered. An- 
other week in the city, a long talk with the devoted old mother whose 
heart was so wrapped up in her son’s happiness and whose arms 
seemed yearning to enfold the lovely girl, and Nellie was conquered. 
If not fully convinced of her love for Mr. Van Antwerp, she was 
more than half in love with his mother. Her promise was given. 

7 * 


78 


THE DESERTER. 


and then she seemed eager to get back to the frontier which she had 
known and loved as a child. I want to see the mountains, the 
snow-peaks, the great rolling prairies, once more,’’ she said ; and he 
had to consent. Man never urged more importunately than he thal 
the wedding should come off that very winter ; but Nellie once more 
said no ; she could not and would not listen to an earlier date than the 
summer to come. 

No one on earth knew with what sore foreboding and misery he let 
her go. It was something that Mrs. Rayner could not help remarking, 
— his unconquerable aversion to every mention of the army and of his 
own slight experience on the frontier. He would not talk of it even 
with Nellie, who was an enthusiast and had spent two years of hei 
girlhood almost under the shadow of Laramie Peak and loved the mere 
mention of the Wyoming streams and valleys. In her husband’s name 
Mrs. Rayner had urged him to drop his business early in the spring 
and come to them for a visit. He declared it was utterly impossible. 
Every moment of his time must be given to the settling of estate affairs, 
so that he could be a free man in the summer. He meant to take his 
bride abroad immediately and spend a year or more in Europe. These 
were details which were industriously circulated by Mrs. Rayner and 
speedily became garrison property. It seemed to the men that in bring- 
ing her sister there engaged she had violated all precedent to begin 
with, and in this instance, at least, there was general complaint. Mr. 
Blake said it reminded him of his early boyhood, when they used to 
take him to the great toy-stores at Christmas : Look all you like, 
long for it as much as you please, but don’t touch.” Merton and Royce, 
of the cavalry, said it was simply a challenge to any better fellow to 
cut in and cut out the Knickerbocker ; and, to do them justice, they did 
their best to carry out their theory. Both they and their comrades of 
the Riflers were assiduous in their attentions to Miss Travers, and other 
ladies, less favored, made acrimonious comment in consequence. A 
maiden sister of one of the veteran captains in the — th, a damsel 
whose stern asceticism of character was reflected in her features and 
grimly illustrated in her dress, was moved to censure of her more at- 
tractive neighbor. If I had given my heart to a gentleman,” said she, 
and her manner was indicative of the long struggle which such a be- 
stowal would cost both him and her, nothing on earth would induce 
we to accept attentions from any one else, not if he were millions oi 
miles away.” 


THE DESERTER. 


79 


But Kellie Travers was accepting attentions” with laughing grace 
and enjoying the society of these young fellows immensely. The house 
, would have been gloomy without her and the boys,” Eayner was 
prompt to admit, for he was ill at ease and sorely worried, while his 
inflammable Kate was fuming over the situation of her husband’s affairs. 
Under ordinary circumstances she would have seen very little to object 
to so long as Kellie showed no preference for any one of her admirers 
at Warrener, and unless peevish or perturbed in spirit would have made 
little allusion to it. As matters stood, however, she was in a most 
querulous and excitable mood : she could not rail at the real cause of 
her misery, and so, woman-like, she was thankful for a pretext for un- 
corking the vials of her wrath on somebody or something else. If the 
young matrons in garrison who, with the two or three visiting maidens, 
were disposed to rebel at Miss Kell’s apparent absorption of all the avail- 
able cavaliers at the post, and call her a too lucky girl, could but have 
heard Mrs. Rayner’s nightly tirades and hourly rebukes, they might have 
realized that here, as elsewhere, the rose had its stinging thorns. As 
for Miss Travers, she confounded her sister by taking it all very sub- 
missively and attempting no defence. Possibly conscience was telling 
her that she deserved more than she was getting, or than she would be 
likely to get until her sister heard of the adventure with Mr. Hayne. 

By the way,” said Mr. Royce one evening as they were stamping 
off the snow and removing their heavy wraps in Rayner’s hall-way 
after a series of garrison calls, Mrs. Waldron says she expects you to 
play for her to-morrow afternoon, Miss Travers. Of course it will be 
my luck to be at stables.” 

You hear better music every afternoon than I can give you, Mr. 
Royce.” 

Where, pray ?” asked Mrs. Rayner, turning quickly upon them. 

Mr. Royce hesitated, and — with shame be it said — allowed Miss 
Travers to meet the question : 

At Mr. Hayne’s, Kate.” 

There was the same awkward silence that always followed the men- 
tion of Hayne’s name. Mrs. Rayner looked annoyed. It was evident 
that she wanted more information, — wanted to ask, but was restrained. 
Royce determined to be outspoken. 

Several of us have got quite in the way of stopping there on our 
way from afternoon stables,” he sairi, very quietly. Mr. Hayne has 


80 


THE DESERTER. 


his piano now, and has nearly recovered the full use of his eyes. He 
plays well.’^ 

Mrs. Rayner turned about once more, and, without saying so much 
as good-night, went heavily up-stairs, leaving her escort to share with 
Mr. Royce such welcome as the captain was ready to accord them. If 
forbidden to talk on the subject nearest her heart, she would not speak 
at all. She would have banged her door, but that would have waked 
baby. It stung her to the quick to know that the cavalry officers 
were daily visitors at Mr. Hayne’s quarters. It was little comfort to 
know that the infantry officers did not go, for she and they both knew 
that, except Major Waldron, no one of their number was welcome 
under that roof unless he would voluntarily come forward and say, I 
believe you innocent.^^ She felt that but for the stand made by Hayne 
himself most of their number would have received him into comrade- 
ship again by this time, and she could hardly sleep that night from 
thinking over what she had heard. 

But could she have seen the figure that was slinking in the snow at 
the rear door of Hayne’s quarters that very evening, peering into the 
lighted rooms, and at last, after many an irresolute turn, knocking 
timidly for admission and then hiding behind the corner of the shed 
until Sam came and poked his pig-tailed head out into the wintry 
darkness in wondering effort to find the visitor, she would not have 
slept at all. 

It was poor Clancy, once more mooning about the garrison and up 
to his old tricks. Clancy had been drinking ; but he wanted to know, 
could he spake with the lieutenant ?” 


IX. 

‘^I have been reading over your letter of Thursday last, dear 
Steven,’^ wrote Miss Travers, “ and there is much that I feel I ought 
to answer. You and Kate are very much of a mind about the ‘ tempta- 
tions’ with which I am surrounded ; but you are far more imaginative 
than she is, and far more courteous. There is so much about your 
> letter that touches me deeply that I want to be frank and fair in my 
reply. I have been dancing all this evening, was out at dinner before 
that, and have made many calls this afternoon ; but, tired as I am, my 


THE DESERTER. 


81 


letter must be written, for to-morrow will be but the repetition of to- 
day. Is it that I am cold and utterly heartless that I can sit and write 
so calmly in reply to your fervent and appealing letter ? Ah, Steven, 
it is what may be said of me ; but, if cold and heartless to you, I have 
certainly given no man at this garrison the faintest reason to thinlc that 
he has inspired any greater interest in him. They are all kind, all very 
attentive. I have told you how well Mr. Royce dances and Mr. Mer- 
ton rides and Mr. Foster reads and talks. They entertain me vastly, 
and I do like it. More than this, Steven, I am pleased with their evi- 
dent admiration, — not alone pleased and proud that they should admire 
me who am pledged to you, — not that alone, I frankly confess, but 
because it in itself is pleasant. It pleases me. Very possibly it is 
because I am vain. 

“ And yet, though my hours are constantly occupied, though they 
are here from morning till night, no one of them is more attentive than 
another. There are five or six who come daily. There are some who 
do not come at all. Am I a wretch, Steven? There are two or three 
that do not call who I wish would call. I would like to know them. 

“ Yet they know — they could not help it, with Kate here, and 1 
never forget — that I am your promised wife. Steven, do you not 
sometimes forget the conditions of that promise? Even now, again 
and again do I not repeat to you that you ought to release me and free 
yourself? Of course your impulse will be to say my heart is changing, 
— that I have seen others whom I like better. No, I have seen no one 
I like as well. But is ^ like’ what you deserve, — what you ask ? and 
is it not all I have ever been able to promise you ? Steven, bear me 
witness, for Kate is bitterly unjust to me at times, I told you again and 
again last summer and fall that I did not love you and ought not to 
t&nk of being your wife. Yet, poor, homeless, dependent as I am, 
how strong was the temptation to say yes to your plea ! You know 
that I did not and would not until time and again your sweet mother, 
whom I do love, and Kate, who had been a mother to me, both declared 
that that should make no difference : the love would come : the happiest 
marriages the world over were those in which the girl respected the man 
of her choice: love would come, and come speedily, when once she 
was his wife. You yourself declared you could wait in patience, — you 
would woo and win by and by. Only promise to be your wife before 
returning to the frontier, and you would be content. Steven, are you 
content? You know you are not; you know you are unhappy; and 
D* 


THE DESERTER. 


it is all, not because I am growing to love some one else, but because I 
am not growing to love you. Heaven knows I want to love you ; foi 
so long as you hold me to it my promise is sacred and shall be kept. 
More than that, if you say that it is your will that I seclude myself 
from these attentions, give up dancing, give up rides, drives, walks, and 
even receiving visits, here, so be it. I will obey. But write this tc 
me, Steven, — not to Kate. I am too proud to ask her to show me thf 
letters I know she has received from you, — and there are some she has 
not shown me, — but I cannot understand a man’s complaining to othei 
persons of the conduct of the woman who is, or is to be, his wife. 
Forgive me if I pain you : sometimes even to myself I seem old and 
strange. I have lived so much alone, have had to think and do foi 
myself so many years while Kate has been away, that perhaps I’m nol 
like other girls ;’ but the respect I feel for you would be injured if 1 
thought you strove to guide or govern me through others ; and of on( 
thing be sure, Steven, I must honor and respect and look up to the man 
I marry ^ love or no love. 

Once you said it would kill you if you believed I could be fals€ 
to you. If by that you meant that, having given my promise to you 
to be your wife at some future time, I must school myself to love you. 
and will be considered false if love do not come at my bidding or yours. 
I say to you solemnly, release me now. I may not love, but I cannot 
and will not deceive you, even by simulating love that does not exist. 
Suppose that love were to be kindled in my heart. Suppose I were tc 
learn to care for some one here. You would be the first one to know it; 
for I would tell you as soon as I knew it myself. Then what could I 
hope for, — or you ? Surely you would not w^ant to marry a girl who 
loved another man. But is it much better to marry one who feels that 
she does not love you ? Think of it, Steven : I am very lonely, very 
far from happy, very wretched over Kate’s evident trouble and all the 
sorrow I am bringing you and yours ; but have I misled or deceived 
you in any one thing ? Once only has a word been spoken or a scene 
occurred that you could perhaps have objected to. I told you the 
whole thing in my letter of Sunday last, and why I had not told Kate 
We have not met since that night, Mr. Hayne and I, and may not : 
but he is a man whose story excites my profound pity and sorrow, and 
he is one of the two or three I feel that I would like to see more of. 
Is this being false to you or to my promise? If so, Steven, you cannot 
say that I have not given you the whole truth. 


THE BESEBTEB. 


83 


“ It is very late at night, — one o^clock, — and Kate is not yet asleep, 
and the captain is still downstairs, reading. He is not looking well at 
all, and Kate is sorely anxious about him. It was his evidence that 
brought years of ostracism and misery upon Lieutenant Hayne, and 
there are vague indications that in his own regiment the officers are 
beginning to believe that possibly he was not the guilty man. The 
cavalry officers, of course, say nothing to us on the subject, and I have 
never heard the full story. If he has been, as is suggested, the victim 
of a scjoundrel, and Captain Kayner was at fault in his evidence, no 
punishment on earth could be too great for the villain who planned 
his ruin, and no remorse could atone for Captain Eayner’s share. I 
never saw so sad a face on mortal man as Mr. Hayne\s. Steven Yan 
Antwerp, I wish I were a man ! I would trace that mystery to the 
bitter end. 

This is a strange letter to send to — to you ; but I am a strange 
girl. Already I am more than expecting you to write and release me 
unconditionally ; and you ought to do it. I do not say I want it. 

Faithfully, at least, yours, 

^ Nellie. 

P.S. — Should you write to Kate, you are not to tell her, remember, 
of my meeting with Mr. Hayne. Of course I am anxious to have your 
reply to that letter ; but it will be five days yet.’^ 

An odd letter, indeed, for a girl not yet twenty, and not of a hope- 
inspiring character; but when it reached Mr. Van Antwerp he did not 
pale in reading it : his face was ghastly before he began. If anything, 
he seemed relieved by some passages, though rejoiced by none. Then 
he took from an inner pocket the letter that had reached him a few days 
previous, and all alone in his room, late at night, he read it over again, 
threw it upon the table at which he was sitting, then, with passionate 
abandonment, buried his face in his arms and groaned aloud in anguish. 

Two days after writing this letter Miss Travers was so unfortunate 
as to hear a conversation in the dining-room which was not intended 
for her ears. She had gone to her room immediately after breakfast, 
and, glancing from her window, saw that the officers were just going 
to head-quarters for the daily matinie. For half or three-quarters of 
an hour, therefore, there could be no probable interruption ; and she 
decided to write an answer to the letter which came from Mr. Van 
Antwerp the previous afternoon. A bright fire was burning in the 


84 


THE DESERTER, 


old-fashioned stove with which frontier quarters are warmed if not orna- 
mented, and she perched her little, slippered feet upon the hearth, took 
her portfolio in her lap, and began. Mrs. Eayner was in the nursery, 
absorbed with the baby and the nurse, when a servant came and an- 
nounced that a lady was in the kitchen’^ and wanted to speak with 
the lady of the house. Mrs. Rayner promptly responded that she was 
busy and couldn’t be disturbed, and wondered who it could be that 
came to her kitchen to see her. 

Can I be of service, Kate ?” called Miss Travers. I will run 
down, if you say so.” 

I wish you would,” was the reply ; and Miss Travers put aside 
her writing. Didn’t she give any name ?” asked Mrs. Rayner of 
the Abigail, who was standing with her head just visible at the stair- 
way, it being one of the unconquerable tenets of frontier domestics to 
go no farther than is absolutely necessary in conveying messages of any 
kind ; and this damsel, though new to the neighborhood, was native and 
to the manner born in all the tricks of the trade. 

She said you knew her name, ma’am. She’s the lady from the 
hospital.” 

Here, Jane, take the baby ! Never mind, Nellie : I must go !” 
And Mrs. Rayner started with surprising alacrity ; but as she passed her 
door Miss Travers saw the look of deep anxiety on her face. 

A moment later she heard voices at the front door, — a party of ladies 
who were going to spend the morning with the colonel’s wife at some 
“ Dorcas society” work which many of them had embraced with enthu- 
siasm. I want to see Miss Travers, just a minute,” she heard a voice 
say, and recognized the pleasant tones of Mrs. Curtis, the young wife 
of one of the infantry officers : so a second time she put aside her 
writing, and then ran down to the front door. Mrs. Curtis merely 
wanted to remind her that she must be sure to come and spend the 
afternoon with her and bring her music, and was dismayed to find that 
Miss Travers could not come before stable-call : she had an engage- 
ment. Of course : I might have known it ; you are besieged every 
hour. Well, can you come to-morrow? Do.” And, to-morrow being 
settled upon, and despite the fact that several of the party waiting on 
the sidewalk looked cold and impatient, Mrs. Curtis found it impossible 
to tear herself away until certain utterly irrelevant matters had been 
lightly touched upon and lingeringly abandoned. The officers were just 
beginning to pour forth from head-quarters when the group of ladies 


THE DESERTER. 


85 


finally got under way again and Miss Travers closed the door. It 
was now useless to return to her letter : so she strolled into the parlor 
just as she heard her sister’s voice at the kitchen door : 

Come right in here, Mrs. Clancy. Now, quick, what is it ?” 

And from the dining-room came the answer, hurried, half whispered, 
and mysterious, — 

, He’s been drinkin’ ever since he got out of hospital, ma’am, an’ 

he’s worse than ever about Loot’nant Hayne. It’s mischief he’ll be 

i doin’, ma’am : he’s crazy-like 

Mrs. Clancy, you must watch him. You Hush !” 

And here she stopped short, for, in astonishment at what she had 
already heard, and in her instant effort to hear no more of what was so 
evidently not intended for her, Miss Travers hurried from the parlor, 
the swish of her skirts telling loudly of her presence there. She went 
again to her room. What could it mean ? Why was her proud, im- 
perious Kate holding secret interviews with this coarse and vulgar 
woman ? What concern was it of hers that Clancy should be worse” 
about Mr. Hayne ? It could not mean that the mischief he would do 
was mischief to the man who had saved his life and his property. That 
was out of the question. It could not mean that the poor, broken- 
down, drunken fellow had the means in his power of further harming a 
man who had already been made to suffer so much. Indeed, Kate’s 
very exclamation, the very tone in which she spoke, showed a distress 
of mind that arose from no fear for one whom she hated as she hated 
Hayne. Her anxiety was personal. It was for her husband and for 
herself she feared, or woman’s tone and tongue never yet revealed a 
secret. Nellie Travers stood in her room stunned and bewildered, yet 
trying hard to recall and put together all the scattered stories and 
rumors that had reached her about the strange conduct of Clancy 
after he was taken to the hospital, — especially about his heart-broken 
wail when told that it was Lieutenant Hayne who had rescued him and 
little Kate from hideous death. Somewhere, somehow, this man was 
connected with the mystery which encircled the long-hidden truth in 
Hayne’s trouble. Could it be possible that he did not realize it, and 

that her sister had discovered it ? Could it be oh, heaven ! no ! — 

could it be that Kate was standing between that lonely and friendless 
- man and the revelation that would set him right ? She could not be- 
lieve it of her ! She would not believe it of her sister ! And yet what 
did Kate mean by charging Mrs. Clancy to watch him, — that drunken 


86 


THE DESERTER. 


imsband? What could it mean but that she was striving to prevent 
Mr. Hayne’s ever hearing the truth ? She longed to learn more and 
solve the riddle once and for all. They were still earnestly talking to- 
gether down in the dining-room ; but she could not listen. Kate knew 
her so well that she had not closed the door leading into the hall, though 
both she and the laundress of Company B had lowered their voices. It 
was disgraceful at best, thought Miss Travers, it was beneath her sister, 
that she should hold any private conversation with a woman of that class. 
Confidences with such were contamination. She half determined to 
rush down-stairs and put an end to it, but was sa\ ed the scene : fresh 
young voices, hearty ringing tones, and the stamp of heavy boot-heels 
were heard at the door ; and as Rayner entered, ushering in Royce and 
Graham, Mrs. Rayner and the laundress fled once more to the kitchen. 

When the sisters found themselves alone again, it was late in the 
evening. Mrs. Rayner came to Nellie’s room and talked on various 
topics for some little time, watching narrowly her sister’s face. The 
young girl hardly spoke at all. It was evident to the elder what her 
thoughts must be. 

“ I suppose you think I should explain Mrs. Clancy’s agitation and 
mysterious conduct, Nellie,” she finally and suddenly said. 

I do not want you to tell me anything, Kate, that you yourself 
do not wish to tell me. You understand, of course, how I happened 
to be there ?” 

•^Oh, certainly. I wasn’t thinking of that. You couldn’t help 
hearing ; but you must have thought it queer, — her being so agitated, I 
mean.” 

No answer. 

Didn’t you ?” 

I wasn’t thinking of her at all.” 

^^What did you think, then?” half defiantly, yet trembling and 
growing white. 

I thought it strange that you should be talking with her in such a 
way.” 

She was worried about her husband, — his drinking so much, — and 
came to consult me.” 

“ Why should she — and you — show such consternation at his con- 
nection with the name of Mr. Hayne ?” 

Nellie, that matter is one you know I cannot bear to talk of.” 
(“ Very recently only,” thought the younger.) ‘^You once asked m? 


THE DESERTER. 


87 


to tell you what Mr. Hayne’s crime had been, and I answered that 
until you could hear the whole story you could not understand the 
matter at all. AYe are both worried about Clancy. He is not himself; 
he is wild and imaginative when he’s drinking. He has some strange 
fancies since the fire, and he thinks he ought to do something to help 
the officer because he helped him, and his head is full of Police Gazette 
stories, utterly without foundation, and he thinks he can tell who the 
real culprits were, — or something of that kind. It is utter nonsense. 
I have investigated the whole thing, — heard the whole story. It is 
the trashiest, most impossible thing you ever dreamed of, and would 
only make fearful trouble if Mr. Hayne got hold of it.” 

“AVhy?” 

W hy f Because he is naturally vengeful and embittered, and he 
would seize on any pretext to make it unpleasant for the officers who 
brought about his trial.” 

Do you mean that what Clancy says in any way affects them ?” 
asked Nell, with quickening pulse and color. 

It might, if there were a word of truth in it ; but it is the maudlin 
dream of a liquor-maddened brain. Mrs. Clancy and I both know 
that what he says is utterly impossible. Indeed, he tells no two stories 
alike.” 

Has he told you anything ?” 

No ; but she tells me everything.” 

How do you know she tells the truth ?” 

‘^Nellie ! Why should she deceive me? I have done everything 
for them.” 

I distrust her all the same ; and you had better be warned in 
time. If he has any theory, no matter how crack-brained, or if he 
knows anything about the case and wants to tell it to Mr. Hayne, you 
are the last woman on earth who should stand in the way.” 

Upon my word, Nellie Travers, this is going too far ! One 
would think you believed I wish to stand in the way of that young 
man’s restoration.” 

Kate, if you lift a hand or speak one word to prevent Clancy’s 
seeing Mr. Hayne and telling him everything he knows, you will make 
me believe — precisely that.” 

Captain Eayner heard sobbing and lamentation on the bedroom 
floor when he came in a few moments after. Going aloft, he found 
Miss Travers’s door closed as usual, and his wife in voluble distress 


88 


THE DESERTER. 


of mind. He could only learn that she and Nellie had had a falling 
out. and that Nell had behaved in a most unjust, disrespectful, and out- 
rageous way. She declined to give further particulars. 


X. 

Miss Travers had other reasons for wanting to be alone. That 
very afternoon, just after stable-call, she found herself unoccupied lor 
the time being, and decided to go over and see Mrs. Waldron a few 
moments. The servant admitted her to the little army parlor, and 
informed her that Mrs. Waldron had stepped out, but would be home 
directly. A bright wood fire was blazing on the hearth and throwing 
flickering lights and shadows about the cosey room. The piano stood 
invitingly open, and on the rack were some waltzes of Strauss she re- 
membered having heard the cavalry band play a night or two previous. 
Seating herself, she began to try them, and speedily became interested. 
Her back being to the door, she did not notice that another visitor was 
soon ushered in, — a man. She continued slowly picking out’^ the 
melody, for the light was growing dim and it was with difficulty that 
she could distinguish the notes. Twice she essayed a somewhat com- 
plicated passage, became entangled, bent down and closely scanned the 
music, began again, once more became involved, exclaimed impatiently, 
How absurd and whirled about on the piano-stool, to find herself 
facing Mr. Hayne. 

Now that the bandage was removed from his eyes it was no such 
easy matter to meet him. Her sweet face flushed instantly as he bent 
low and spoke her name. 

/‘I had no idea, any one was here. It quite startled me,” she 
said, as she withdrew from his the hand she had mechanically ex- 
tended to him. 

It was my hope not to interrupt you,” he answered, in the low, 
gentle voice she had marked before. You helped me when my 
music was all adrift the other night : may I not help you find some 
of this ?” 

I wish you would play, Mr. Hayne.” 

I will play for you gladly. Miss Travers, but waltz-music is not 
my forte. Let me see what else there is here.” And he began turning 
over the sheets on the stand. 


THE DESERTER. 


89 


“ Are your eyes well enough to read music, — especially in such a 
dim light she asked, with evident sympathy. 

My eyes are doing very well, — better than my fingers, in fact, — 
and, as I rarely play by note after I once learn a piece, the eyes make 
no ditference. What music do you like? I merely looked at this col- 
lection thinking you might see something that pleased you.^’ 

“ Mrs. Ray told me you played Ru}3instein so well, — that melody 
in F, for one.^^ 

Did Mrs. Ray speak of that — his face brightening. I^m glad 
they found anything to enjoy in my music.’’ 

“ ‘ They’ found a great deal, Mr. Hayne, and there are a number 
who are envious of their good fortune, — I, for one,” she answered, 
blithely. Now play for me. Mrs. Waldron will be here in a 
minute.” 

And when Mrs. Waldron came in, a little later. Miss Travers, seated 
in an easy-chair and looking intently into the blaze, was listening as 
intently to the soft, rich melodies that Mr. Hayne was playing. The 
firelight was flickering on her shining hair ; one slender white hand 
was toying with the locket that hung at her throat, the other gently 
tapping on the arm of the chair in unison with the music. And Mr. 
Hayne, seated in the shadow, bent slightly over the key-board, absorbed 
in his pleasant task, and playing as though all his soul were thrilling in 
his finger-tips. Mrs. Waldron stood in silence at the door- way, watch- 
ing the unconscious pair with an odd yet comforted expression in her 
eyes. At last, in one long, sweet, sighing chord, the melody softly 
died away, and Mr. Hayne slowly turned and looked upon the girl. 
She seemed to have wandered off into dream-land. For a moment there 
was no sound ; then, with a little shivering sigh, she roused herself. 

It is simply exquisite,” she said. “ You have given me such a 
treat !” * 

I’m glad. I owe you a great deal more pleasure, Miss Travers.” 

Mrs. Waldron hereat elevated her eyebrows. She would have 
slipped away if she could, but she was a woman of substance, and as 
solid in flesh as she was warm of heart. She did the only thing left 
to her, — came cordially forward to welcome her two visitors and ex- 
press her delight that Miss Travers could have an opportunity of hear- 
ino* Mr. Hayne play. She soon succeeded in starting him again, and 
shortly thereafter managed to slip out unnoticed. When he turned 
around a few minutes afterwards, she had vanished. 

8 * 


90 


THE DESERTER. 


Why, I had no idea she was gone exclaimed Miss Travers ; anc 
then the color mounted to her brow. He must think her extremel} 
absorbed in his playing ; and so indeed she was. 

You are very fond of music, I see/’ he said, at a venture. 

Yes, very ; but I play very little and very badly. Pardon me 
Mr. Hayne, but you have played many years, have you not 

Not so very many ; but there have been many in which I hac 

little else to do but practise.’^ 

She reddened again. It was so unlike him, she thought, to refer t( 
that matter in speaking to her. He seemed to read her : 

I speak of it only that I may say to you again what I began jusi 
before Mrs. Waldron came. You gave me no opportunity to thant 
you the other night, and I may not have another. You do not kno\^ 
what an event in my life that meeting with you was ; and you (^nnoi 
know how I have gone over your words again and again. Forgive m( 
the embarrassment I see I cause you. Miss Travers. We are so un- 
likely to meet at all that you can afford to indulge me this once.’’ H( 
was smiling so gravely, sadly, now, and had risen and was standing by 
her as she sat there in the big easy-chair, still gazing into the fire, but 
listening for his every word. In five long years I have heard no 
words from a woman’s lips that gave me such joy and comfort as those 
you spoke so hurriedly and without premeditation. Only those who 
know anything of what my past has been could form any idea of the 
emotion with which I heard you. If I could not have seen you to say 
how — how I thanked you, I would have had to write. This explains 
what I said awhile ago : I owe you more pleasure than I can ever give. 
But one thing was certain : I could not bear the idea that you should 
not be told, and by me, how grateful your words were to me, — how 
grateful I was to you. Again, may God bless you !” 

And now he turned abruptly away, awaiting no answer, reseated 
himself at the piano and retouched the keys. But, though she sat 
motionless and speechless, she knew that he had been trembling so 
violently and that his hands were still so tremulous he could play no 
more. It was some minutes that they sat thus, neither speaking ; and 
as he regained his self-control and began to attempt some simple little 
melodies, Mrs. Waldron returned : 

How very domestic you look, young people ! Shall we light the 
lamps ?” 

I’ve stayed too long already,” said Miss Travers, springing to her 


THE DESERTER. 


91 


feet. Kate does not know I’m out, and will be wondering Avhat has 
become of her sister.” She laughed nervously. Thank you so much 
for the music, Mr. Hayne ! — Forgive my running olf so suddenly, won’t 
you, Mrs. Waldron?” she asked, pleadingly, as she put her hand in 
hers ; and as her hostess reassured her she bent and kissed the girl’s 
flushed cheek. Mr. Hayne was still standing patiently by the centre- 
table. Once more she turned, and caught his eye, flushed, half hesitated, 
then held out her hand with quick impulse : 

Good-evening, Mr. Hayne. I shall hope to hear you play again.” 

And, with pulses throbbing, and cheeks that still burned, she ran 
j quickly down the line to Captain Rayner’s quarters, and was up-stairs 
and in her room in another minute. 

This was an interview she would find it hard to tell to Kate. But 
told it was, partially, and she was sitting now, late at night, hearing 
through her closed door her sister’s unmusical lamentations, — hearing 
still ringing in her ears the reproaches heaped upon her when that 
sister was quietly told that she and Mr. Hayne had met twice. And 
I now she was sitting there, true to herself and her resolution, telling Mr. 
Van Antwerp all about it. Can one conjecture the sensations with 
which he received and read that letter ? 

Mr. Hayne, too, was having a wakeful night. He had gone to 
Mrs. Waldron’s to pay a dinner-call, with the result just told. He 
had one or two other visits to make among the cavalry households in 
garrison, but, after a few moments’ chat with Mrs. Waldron, he decided 
that he preferred going home. Sam had to call three times before Mr. 
Hayne obeyed the summons to dinner that evening. The sun was going 
down behind the great range to the southwest, and the trumpets were 
pealing retreat” on the frosty air, but Hayne’s curtains were drawn, 
and he was sitting before his fire, deep in thought, hearing nothing. 
The doctor came in soon after he finished his solitary dinner, chatted 
with him awhile, and smoked away at his pipe. He wanted to talk 
with Hayne about some especial matter, and he found it hard work to 
begin. The more he saw of his patient the better he liked him : he 
was interested in him, and had been making inquiries. Without his 
pipe he found himself uninspired. 

Mr. Hayne, if you will permit. I’ll fill up and blow another 
cloud. Didn’t you ever smoke?” 

Yes. I was very fond of my cigar six or seven years ago.” 


92 


THE DESERTER. 


And you gave it up asked the doctor, tugging away at the 
strings of his little tobacco-pouch. 

I gave up everything that was not an absolute necessity,’’ said 
Hayne, calmly. Until I could get free of a big load there Tvas no 
comfort in anything. After that was gone I had no more use for such 
old friends than certain other old friends seemed to have for me. It 
was a mutual cut.” 

To the best of my belief, you were the gainer in both cases,” said 
the doctor, gruffly. The longer I live the more I agree with Carlyle : 
the men we live and move with are mostly fools.” 

Hayne’s face was as grave and quiet as ever : 

These are hard lessons to learn, doctor. I presume few young 
fellows thought more of human friendship than I did the first two years 
I was in service.” 

Hayne,” said the doctor, sometimes I have thought you did not 
want to talk about this matter to any soul on earth ; but I am speaking 
from no empty curiosity now. If you forbid it, I shall not intrude ; 
but there are some questions that, since knowing you, and believing in 
you as I unquestionably do, I would like to ask. You seem bent on 
returning to duty here to-morrow, though you might stay on sick report 
ten days yet ; and I want to stand between you and the possibility of 
annoyance and trouble if I can.” 

“ You are kind, and I appreciate it, doctor ; but do you think that 
the colonel is a man who will be apt to let me suffer injustice at the 
hands of any one here ?” 

I don’t, indeed. He is full of sympathy for you, and I know he 
means you shall have fair play; but a company commander has as 
many and as intangible ways of making a man suffer as has a woman. 
How do you stand with Rayner ?” 

Precisely where I stood five years ago. He is the most determined 
enemy I have in the service, and will down me if he can ; but I have 
learned a good deal in my time. There is a grim sort of comfort now 
in knowing that while he would gladly trip me I can make him miser- 
able by being too strong for him.” 

You still hold the same theory as to his evidence you did at the 
time of the court ? of course I have heard what you said to and of 
him.” 

I have never changed in that respect.” 

But supposing that — mind you, I believe he was utterly mistaken 


THE DESERTER 


93 


in what he thought he heard and saw, — supposing that all that was 
testified to by him actually occurred, have you any theory that would 
point out the real criminar?’’ 

Only one. If that money was ever handed me that day at Battle 
: Butte, only one man could have made away with it ; and it is uselass 
i to charge it to him.’’ 

You mean Bayner?” 

{ I have to mean Bayner.” 

( But you claim it never reached you ?” 

j Certainly.” 

Yet every other package — memoranda and all — was hancJed you?” 

Not only that, but Captain Hull handed me the money-packet 
with the others, — took them all from his saddle-bags just before the 
charge. The packet was sealed when he gave it to me, and when .1 
broke the seal it was stuffed with worthless blanks.” 

And you have never suspected a soldier, — a single messenger or 
servant ?” 

Not one. Whom could I ?” 

Hayne, had you any knowledge of this man Clancy before ?” 

Clancy ! The drunken fellow we pulled out of the fire ?” 

The same.” 

No ; never to my knowledge saw or heard of him, except when 
: he appeared as witness at the court.” 

‘‘Yet he was with the — th Cavalry at that very fight at Battle 
! Butte. He was a sergeant then, though not in Hull’s troop.” 

Does he say he knew me ? or does he talk of that affair ?” asked 
the lieutenant, with sudden interest. 

Not that. He cannot be said to say anything ; but he was won- 
derfully affected over your rescuing him, — strangely so, one of the 
' nurses persists in telling me, though the steward and Mrs. Clancy de- 
f dare it was just drink and excitement. Still, I have drawn from him 
that he knew you well by sight during that campaign ; but he says he 
was not by when Hull was killed.” 

Does he act as though he knew anything that could throw any 
light on the matter ?” 

I cannot say. His wife declares he has been queer all wdnter, — 
hard drinking, — and of course that is possible.” 

Sam told me there was a soldier here two nights ago who wanted 


94 


THE DESERTER. 


io talk with me, but the man was drunk, and he would not let him in 
or tell me. He thought he wanted to borrow money.’’ 

I declare, I believe it was Clancy !” said the doctor. If he 
wants to see you and talk, let him. There’s no telling but what even 
a drink-racked brain may bring the matter to light.” 

And long that night Mr. Hayne sat there thinking, partly of what 
the doctor had said, but more of what had occurred during the late 
afternoon. Midnight was called by the sentries. He went to his door 
and looked out on the broad, bleak prairie, the moonlight glinting on 
the tin roofing of the patch of buildings over at the station far across 
the dreary level and glistening on the patches of snow that here and 
there streaked the surface. It was all so cold and calm and still. His 
blood was hot and fevered. Something invited him into the peace and 
purity of the night. He threw on his overcoat and furs, and strolled 
up to the gateway, past the silent and deserted store, whose lighted bar 
and billiard-room was generally the last thing to close along Prairie 
Avenue. There was not a glimmer of light about the quarters of the 
trader or the surgeon’s beyond. One or two faint gleams stole through 
the blinds at the big hospital, and told of the night-watch by some 
fevered bedside. He passed on around the fence and took a path that 
led to the target-ranges north of the post and back of officers’ row, 
thinking deeply all the while ; and finally, re-entering the garrison by 
the west gate, he came down along the hard gravelled walk that passed 
in circular sweeps the offices and the big house of the colonel com- 
manding and then bore straight away in front of the entire line. All 
was darkness and quiet. He passed in succession the houses of the 
field-officers of the cavalry, looked longingly at the darkened front of 
Major Waldron’s cottage, where he had lived so sweet an hour before 
the setting of the last sun, then went on again and paused surprised in 
front of Captain Rayner’s. A bright light was still burning in the 
front room on the second floor. Was she, too, awake and thinking of 
that interview? He looked wistfully at the lace curtains that shrouded 
the interior, and then the clank of a cavalry sabre sounded in his ears, 
and a tall officer came springily across the road. 

Who the devil’s that ?” was the blunt military greeting. 

Mr. Hayne,” was the quiet reply. 

‘^What? Mr. Hayne? Oh! Beg your pardon, man, — couldn’t 
imagine who it was mooning around out here after midnight.” 

“ I don’t wonder,” answered Hayne. I am rather given to late 


THE DESERTER. 


95 


hours, and ader reading a long time I often take a stroll before turn- 
ing in.” 

‘^Ah, yes : I see. Well, won’t you drop in and chat awhile? I’m 
officer of the day, and have to owl to-night.” 

Thanks, no, not this time : I must go to bed. Good-nighfc, Mr. 
Blake.” 

Good-night to you, Mr. Hayne,” said Blake, then stood gazing 
perplexedly after him. ^^Now, my fine fellow,” was his dissatisfied 
query, what on earth do you mean by prowling around Rayner’s 
at this hour of the night ?” 


XI. 

It was very generally known throughout Fort Warrener by ten 
o’clock on the following morning that Mr. Hayne had returned to duty 
and was one of the first officers to appear at the matinee. Once more 
the colonel had risen from his chair, taken him by the hand, and wel- 
comed him. This time he expressed the hope that nothing would now 
occur to prevent their seeing him daily. 

Won’t you come in to the club-room?” asked Captain Gregg, 
afterwards. “ We will be pleased to have you.” 

Excuse me, captain, I shall be engaged all morning,” answeretl 
Mr. Hayne, and walked on down the row. Nearly all the officers were 
strolling away in groups of three or four. Hayne walked past them 
all with quick, soldierly step and almost aggressive mannei’, and was 
soon far ahead, all by himself. Finding it an unprofitable subject, 
there had been little talk between the two regiments as to what Mr. 
Hayne’s status should be on his reappearance. Everybody heard that 
he had somewhat rudely spurned the advances of Ross and his com- 
panions. Indeed, Ross had told the story with strong coloring to more 
than half the denizens of officers’ row. Evidently he desired no further 
friendship or intercourse with his brother blue-straps ; and only a few 
of the cavalry officers found his society attractive. He played de- 
lightfully ; he was well read ; but in general talk he was not entertain- 
ing. Altogether too sepulchral, — or at least funereal,” explained the 
cavalry. He never laughs, and rarely smiles, and he’s as glum as a 
Quaker meeting,” was another complaint. So a social success was 
hardly to be predicted for Mr. Hayne. 

While he could not be invited where just a few infantry people 


96 


THE DESERTER. 


were the other guests, from a big general gathering or party he, of 
course, could not be omitted ; but there he would have his cavalry and 
medical friends to talk to, and then there was Major Waldron. It was 
a grievous pity that there should be such an element of embarrassment, 
but it couldn’t be helped. As the regimental adjutant had said, Hayne 
himself was the main obstacle to his restoration to regimental friend- 
ship. No man who piques himself on the belief that he is about to do 
a V irtuous and praiseworthy act will be apt to persevere when the ob- 
ject of his benevolence treats him with cold contempt. If Mr. Hayne 
saw fit to repudiate the civilities a few officers essayed to extend to him, 
no others would subject themselves to similar rebuffs ; and if he could 
stand the status quo, why, the regiment could ; and that, said the Riders, 
was the end of the matter. 

But it was not the end, by a good deal. Some few of the ladies of 
the infantry, actuated by Mrs. Rayner’s vehement exposition of the 
case, had aligned themselves on her side as against the post commander, 
and by their general conduct sought to convey to the colonel and to the 
ladies who Avere present at the first dinner given Mr. Hayne thorough 
disapproval of their course. This put the cavalry people on their mettle 
and led to a division in the garrison ; and as Major Waldron was, in 
Mrs. Rayner’s eyes, equally culpable with the colonel, it so resulted that 
two or three infantry households, together with some unmarried subal- 
terns, were arrayed socially against their own battalion commander 
as well as against the grand panjandrum at post head-quarters. If it 
had not been for the determined attitude of Mr. Hayne himself, the 
garrison might speedily have been resolved into two parties, — Hayne 
and anti-Hayne sympathizers; but the whole bearing of that young 
man was fiercely repellent of sympathy : he would have none of it. 

Hayne’s position,” said Major Waldron, is practically this : he 
holds that no man who has borne himself as he has during these five 
years — denied himself everything that he might make up every cent 
that was lost, though he was in no wise responsible for the loss — could 
by any possibility have been guilty of the charges on which he was 
tried. From this he will not abate one jot or tittle ; and he refuses 
now to restore to his friendship the men wdio repudiated him in his 
years of trouble, except on their profession of faith in his entire inno- 
cence.” . Now, this was something the cavalry could not do without 
some impeachment of the evidence which \A*as heaped up against the 
poor fellow at the time of the trial ; and it was something the infantry 


THE DESERTER, 


97 


would not do, because thereby they would virtually pronounce one at 
least of their own officers to have repeatedly and persistently given 
false testimony. In the case of Waldron and the cavalry, however, it 
was possible for Hayne to return their calls of courtesy, because they, 
having never sent him to Coventry,’’ received him precisely as they 
would receive any other officer. With the Riflers it was different : 
having once cut” him as though by unanimous accord, and having 
taught the young officers joining year after year to regard him as a 
criminal, they could be restored to Mr. Hayne’s friendship, as has been 
said before, only on confession of error.” Buxton and two or three 
of his stamp called or left their cards on Mr. Hayne because their 
colonel had so done ; but precisely as the ceremony was performed, just 
80 was it returned. Buxton was red with wrath over what he termed 
Hayne’s conceited and supercilious manner when returning his call : 

I called upon him like a gentleman, by thunder, just to let him 
understand I wanted to help him out of the mire, and told him if there 
was anything I could do for him that a gentleman could do, not to 
hesitate about letting me know ; and when he came to my house to-day, 
damned if he didn’t patronize me ! — talked to me about the Plevna siege, 
and wanted to discuss Gourko and the Balkans or some other fool thing : 
what in thunder have I to do with campaigns in Turkey ? — and I thought 
he m^ant those nigger soldiers the British have in India, — Goorkhas, 
I know now, — and I did tell him it was an awful blunder, that only a 
Russian would make, to take those Sepoy fellows and put ’em into a 
winter campaign. Of course I hadn’t been booking up the subject, and 
he had, and sprung it on me ; and then, by gad, as he was going, he said 
he had books and maps he would lend me, and if there was anything he 
could do for me that a gentleman could do, not to hesitate about asking. 
Damn his impudence !” 

Poor Buxton ! One of his idiosyncrasies was to talk wisely to tffie 
juniors on the subject of European campaigns and to criticise the mo\^s 
of generals whose very names and centuries were entangling snares. 
His own subalterns were, unfortunately for him, at the house when 
Hayne called, and when he, as was his wont, began to expound on 
current military topics. A little learning,” even, he had not, and the 
dangerous thing that that would have been was supplanted by some- 
thing quite as bad, if not worse. He was trapped and thrown by the 
quiet-mannered infantry subaltern, and it was all Messrs. Freeman and 
Royce could do to restrain their impulse to rush after Hayne and 
E 9 


THE DESERTER. 


embrace him. Buxton was cordially detested by his “ subs,” and well 
knew they would tell the story of his defeat, so he made a virtue of 
necessity and came out with his own version. Theirs was far more 
ludicrous, and, while it made Mr. Hayne famous, he gained another 
enemy. The — th could not fail to notice how soon after that all 
social recognition ceased between their bulky captain and the pale, 
slender subaltern ; and Mrs. Buxton and Mrs. Bayner became suddenly 
infatuated with each other, while their lords were seldom seen except 
together. 

All this time, however, Miss Travers was making friends through- 
out the garrison. No one ever presumed to discuss the Hayne affair in 
her presence, because of her relationship to the Rayners ; and yet Mrs. 
Waldron had told several people how delightfully she and Mr. Hayne 
had spent an afternoon together. Did not Mrs. Bayner declare that Mrs. 
Waldron was a woman who told everything she knew, or words to that 
effect ? It is safe to say that the garrison was greatly interested in the 
story. How strange it was that he should have had a, Ute-ct-tite with 
the sister of his bitterest foe! When did they meet? Had tliey met 
since? Would they meet again? All these were questions eag^y 
discussed, yet never asked of the parties themselves, Mr. Hayne’s repu- 
tation for snubbing people standing him in excellent stead, and Miss 
Travers’s quiet dignity and reserve of manner being too much for those 
who would have given a good deal to gain her confidence. But there 
was Mrs. Bayner. She, at least, with all her high and mighty ways, 
was no unapproachable creature when it came to finding out what she 
thought of other people’s conduct. So half a dozen, at least, had more 
or less confidentially asked if she knew of Mr. Hayne and Miss 
Travers’s meeting. Indeed she did ! arjd she had given Nellie her 
opinion of her conduct very decidedly. It was Captain Bayner him- 
self who interposed, she said, and forbade her upbraiding Nellie any 
further. Nellie being either in an adjoining room or up in her own 
on several occasions when these queries were propounded to her sister, 
it goes without saying that that estimable woman, after the manner 
of her sex, had elevated her voice in responding, so that there was 
no possibility of the wicked girl’s failing to get the full benefit of 
the scourging she deserved. Bayner had, indeed, positively forbidden 
her further rebuking Nellie ; but the man does not live who can prevent 
one woman’s punishing another so long as she can get within earshot, 
wid Miss Travers was paying dearly for her independence. 


THE DESERTER, 


99 


It cannot be estimated just how great a disappointment her visit to 
the frontier was proving to that young lady, simply because she kept 
her own counsel. There were women in the garrison who longed to 
take her to their hearts and homes, she was so fresh and pure and sweet 
and winning, they said ; but how could they, when her sister would 
recognize them only by the coldest possible nod? Nellie was not 
happy, that was certain, though she made no complaint, and though 
the young officers who were daily her devotees declared she was bright 
and attractive as she could be. There were still frequent dances and 
parties in the garrison, but March was nearly spent, and the weather 
had been so vile and blustering that they could not move beyond the 
limits of the post. April might bring a change for the better in the 
weather, but Miss Travers wondered how it could better her position. 

It is hard for a woman of spirit to be materially dependent on any 
one, and Miss Travers was virtually dependent on her brother-in-law. 
The little share of her father’s hard savings was spent on her education. 
Once free from school, she was bound to another apprenticeship, and 
sister Kate, though indulgent, fond, and proud, lost no opportunity of 
telling her how much she owed to Captain Rayner. It got to be a 
fearful weight before the first summer was well over. It was the main 
secret of her acceptance of Mr. Van Antwerp. And now, until she 
would consent to name the day that should bind her for life to him, 
she had no home but such as Kate Rayner could offer her ; and Kate 
was bitterly offended at her. There was just one chance to end it now 
and forever, and to relieve her sister and the captain of the burden of 
her support. Could she make up her mind to do it? And Mr. Van 
Antwerp offered the opportunity. 

So far from breaking with her, as she half expected, — so far from 
being even angry and reproachful on receiving the letter she had written 
telling him all about her meetings with Mr. Hayne, — he had written 
again and again, reproaching himself for his doubts and fears, begging 
her forgiveness for having written and telegraphed to Kate, humbling 
himself before her in the most abject way, and imploring her to recon- 
sider her determination and to let him write to Captain and Mrs. Ray- 
ner to return to their Eastern home at once, that the marriage might 
take place forthwith and he could bear her away to Europe in May. 
Letter after letter came, eager, imploring, full of tenderest love and 
devotion, full of the saddest apprehension, never reproaching, never 
doul^ting, never commanding or restraining. The man had found the 


L.ofC. 


100 


THE DESERTER. 


way to touch a woman of her generous nature : he had left all to her ; 
he was at her mercy ; and she knew well that he loved her fervently 
and that to lose her would wellnigh break his heart. Could she say 
the word and be free ? Surely, as this man’s wife there would be no 
serfdom ; and, yet, could she wed a man for whom she felt no spark of 
love ? 

They went down to the creek one fine morning early in April. 
There had been a sudden thaw of the snows up the gorges of the 
Kockies, and the stream had overleaped its banks, spread over the low- 
lands, and flooded some broad depressions in the prairie. Then, capri- 
cious as a woman’s moods, the wind whistled around from the north 
one night and bound the lakelets in a band of ice. The skating was 
gorgeous, and all the pretty ankles on the post were rejoicing in the 
opportunity before the setting of another sun. Coming homeward at 
luncheon-time, Mrs. Rayner, Mrs. Buxton, Miss Travers, and one or 
two others, escorted by a squad of bachelors, strolled somewhat slowly 
along Prairie Avenue towards the gate. It so happened that the 
married ladies were foremost in the little party, when who should 
meet them but Mr. Hayne, coming from the east gate ! Mrs. Rayner 
and Mrs. Buxton, though passing him almost elbow to elbow, looked 
straight ahead or otherwise avoided his eye. He raised his forage-cap 
in general acknowledgment of the presence of ladies with the officers, 
but glanced coldly from one to the other until his blue eyes lighted on 
Miss Travers. No woman in that group could fail to note the leap 
of sunshine and gladness to his face, the instant flush that rose to 
his cheek. Miss Travers, herself, saw it quickly, as did the maiden 
walking just behind her, and her heart bounded at the sight. She bowed 
as their eyes met, spoke his name in low tone, and strove to hide her 
face from Mr. Blake, who turned completely around and stole a sudden 
glance at her. She could no more account for than she could control 
it, but her face was burning. Mrs. Rayner, too, looked around and 
stared at her, but this she met firmly, her dark eyes never quailing 
before the angry glare in her sister’s. Blake was beginning to like 
Hayne and to dislike Mrs. Rayner, and he always did like mischief. 

You owe me a grudge. Miss Travers, if you did but know it,” 
he said, so that all could hear. 

You, Mr. Blake ! How can that be possible ?” 

I spoiled a serenade for you a few nights ago. I was officer of 
the day, and caught sight of a man gazing up at your window after 


THE DESERTER. 


101 


midnight. I felt sure he was going to sing : so, like a good fellow, I 
ran over to play an accompaniment, and then — would you believe it ? 
— he wouldif t sing, after all.^^ 

She was white now. Her eyes were gazing almost imploringly at 
him. Something warned him to hold his peace, and he broke off 
short. 

^^Who was it? Oh, do tell us, Mr. Blake f’ were the exclamations, 
Mrs. Rayner being most impetuous in her demands. Again Blake 
caught the appeal in Miss Traverses eyes. 

That’s what I want to know,” he responded, mendaciously. 

When I woke up next morning, the whole thing was a dream, and 
I couldn’t fix the fellow at all.” 

There was a chorus of disappointment and indignation. The idea 
of spoiling such a gem of a sensation ! But Blake took it all com- 
placently, until he got home. Then it began to worry him. 

Was it possible that she knew he was there? 

That night there was a disturbance in the garrison. Just after ten 
o’clock, and while the sentries were calling off the hour, a woman’s 
shrieks and cries were heard over behind the quarters of Company B 
and close to the cottage occupied by Lieutenant Hayne. The officers 
of the guard ran to the spot with several men, and found Private Clancy 
struggling and swearing in the grasp of two or three soldiers, while Mrs. 
Clancy was imploring them not to let him go, he was wild-like again; it 
was drink ; he had the horrors, and was batin’ her while she was tryin’ 
to get him home. And Clancy’s appearance bore out her words. He 
was wild and drunken ; but he swore he meant no harm ; he struggled 
hard for freedom ; he vowed he only wanted to see the lieutenant at his 
quarters ; and Mr. Hayne, lamp in hand, had come upon the scene, and 
was striving to quiet the woman, who only screamed and protested the 
louder. At his quiet order the soldiers released Clancy, and the man 
stood patient and subordinate. 

Did you want to see me, Clancy ?” asked Mr. Hayne. 

Askin’ yer pardon, sir, I did,” began the man, unsteadily, and 
evidently struggling with the fumes of the liquor he had been drinking ; 
but before he could speak again, Mrs. Clancy’s shrieks rang out on the 
still air ; 

Oh, for the love of God, howld him, some o’ ye’s ! He’ll kill 
him ! He’s mad, I say ! Shure ’tis I that know him best. Oh, 
blessed Margin, save us ! DonH let him loose, Misther Foster !” she 


102 


THE DESERTER. 


screamed to the officer of the guard, who at that moment appeared on 
the full run. 

What’s the trouble ?” he asked, breathlessly. 

Clancy seems to have been drinking, and wants to talk with me 
about something, Mr. Foster,” said Hayne, quietly. He belongs to 
my company, and I will be responsible that he goes home. It is really 
Mrs. Clancy that is making all the trouble.” 

Oh, for the love of God, hear him, now, whin the man was tearin’ 
the hair o’ me this minute ! Oh, howld him, men ! Shure ’tis Captain 
Rayner wud niver let him go.” 

What’s the matter, Mrs. Clancy ?” spoke a quick, stern voice, and 
Rayner, with face white as a sheet, suddenly stood in their midst. 

Oh, God be praised, it’s here ye are, captin ! Shure it’s Clancy, 
sir, dhrunk, sir, and runnin’ round the garrison, and batin’ me, sir.” 

Take him to the guard-house, Mr. Foster,” was the stern, sudden 
order. ‘‘ Not a word, Clancy,” as the man strove to speak. Off 
with him ; and if he gives you any trouble, send for me.” 

And as the poor fellow was led away, silence fell upon the group. 
Mrs. Clancy began a wail of mingled relief and misery, which the cap- 
tain ordered her to cease and go home. More men came hurrying to 
the spot, and presently the officer of the day. It is all right now,” 
said Rayner to the latter. One of my men — Clancy — was out here 
drunk and raising a row. I have sent him to the guard-house. Go 
back to your quarters, men. Come, captain, will you walk over home 
with me ?” 

Was Mr. Hayne here when the row occurred ?” asked the cavalry- 
man, looking as though he wanted to hear something from the young 
officer who stood a silent witness. 

I don’t know,” replied Rayner. It makes no difference, captain. 
It is not a case of witnesses. I shan’t prefer charges against the man. 
Come !” And he drew him hastily away. 

Hayne stood watching them as they disappeared beyond the glimmer 
of his lamp. Then a hand was placed on his arm : 

Did you notice Captain Rayner’s face, — ^his lips ? He was ashen 
as death.” 

Come in here with me,” was the reply ; and, turning, Hayne led 
the post surgeon into the house. 


THE DESERTER. 


103 


XIL 

There was an unusual scene at the matinee the following morning. 
When Captain Ray relieved Captain Gregg as officer of the day, and 
the two were visiting the guard-house and turning over prisoners, they 
came upon the last name on the list, — Clancy, — and Gregg turned to 
his regimental comrade and said, — 

No charges are preferred against Clancy, at least none as yet, 
Captain Ray ; but his company commander requests that he be held 
here until he can talk over his case with the colonel.” 

What’s he in for ?” demanded Captain Ray. 

Getting drunk and raising a row and beating his wife,” answered 
Gregg ; whereat there was a titter among the soldiers. 

“ I never sh truck a woman in me life, sir,” said poor Clancy. 

Silence, Clancy !” ordered the sergeant of the guard. 

No, I’m blessed if I believe that part of it, Clancy, drunk or no 
drunk,” said the new officer of the day. — Take charge of him for the 
present, sergeant.” And away they went to the office. 

Captain Rayner was in conversation with the commanding officer 
as they entered, and the colonel was saying, — 

It is not the proper way to handle the case, captain. If he has 
been guilty of drunkenness and disorderly conduct he should be brought 
to trial at once.” 

I admit that, sir ; but the case is peculiar. It was Mrs. Clancy that 
made all the noise. I feel sure that after he is perfectly sober I c m 
give him such a talking-to as will put a stop to this trouble.” 

Very well, sir. I am willing to let company commanders experi- 
ment at least once or twice on their theories, so you can try the scheme ; 
but we of the — th have had some years of experience with the Clancys, 
and were not a little amused when they turned up again in our midst as 
accredited members of your company.” 

Then, as I understand you, colonel, Clancy is not to be brought to 
trial for this affair,” suddenly spoke the post surgeon. 

Everybody looked up in surprise. Pills” was the last man, 
ordinarily, to take a hand in the shop talk” at the morning meetings. 

No, doctor. His captain thinks it unnecessary to prefer charges.” 

So do I, sir ; and, as I saw the man both before and after his 


104 


THE DESERTER. 


confinement last night, I do not think it was necessary to confine 
him/^ 

^^The officer of the day says there was great disorder,” said the 
colonel, in surprise. 

“ Ay, sir, so there was ; and the thing reminds me of the stories 
they used to tell on the New York police. It looked to me as though all 
the row was raised by Mrs. Clancy, as Captain Rayner says ; but the 
man was arrested. That being the case, I would ask the captain for 
what specific offence he ordered Clancy to the guard-house.” 

Rayner again was pale as death. He glared at the doctor in amaze 
and incredulity, while all the officers noted his agitation and were silent 
in surprise. It was the colonel that came to the rescue : 

Captain Rayner had abundant reason, doctor. It was after taps, 
though only just after, and, whether causing the trouble or not, the man 
is the responsible party, not the woman. The captain was right in causing 
his arrest.” 

Rayner looked up gratefully. 

“ I submit to your decision, sir,” said the surgeon, and I apologize 
for anything I may have asked that was beyond my province. Now I 
wish to ask a question for my own guidance.” 

Go on, doctor.” 

In case an enlisted man of this command desire to see an officer of 
his company, — or any other officer, for that matter, — is it a violation of 
any military regulation for him to go to his quarters for that purpose ?” 

Again was Rayner fearfully white and aged-looking. His lips 
moved as though he would interrupt ; but discipline prevailed. 

No, doctor ; and yet we have certain customs of service to prevent 
the men going at all manner of hours and on frivolous errands : a soldier 
asks his first sergeant’s permission first, and if denied by him, and he 
have what he considers good reason, he can report the whole case.” 

. But suppose a man is not on company duty : must he hunt up his 
first sergeant and ask permission to go and see some officer with whom 
he has business ?” 

Well, hardly, in that case.” 

That’s all, sir.” And the doctor subsided. 

Among all the officers, as the meeting adjourned, the question was. 
What do you suppose ^ Pills’ was driving at ?” 

There were two or three who knew. Captain Rayner went first to 
his quarters, where he had a few moments’ hurried consultation with 


THE DESERTER. 


105 


his wife ; then they left the house together, — he to have a low-toned 
and very stern talk to rather than with the abashed Clancy, who listened 
cap in hand and with hanging head ; she to visit the sick child of Mrs. 
Flanigan, of Company K, whose quarters adjoined those to which the 
Clancys had recently been assigned. When that Hibernian culprit 
returned to his roof-tree, released from durance vile, he was surprised 
to receive a kindly and sympathetic welcome from his captain^s wife, 
who with her own hand had mixed him some comforting drink and 
was planning with Mrs. Clancv for their greater comfort. If Clancy 
will only promise to quit entirely interjected the partner of his joys 
and sorrows. 

Later that day, when the doctor had a little talk with Clancy, the 
ex-dragoon declared he was going to reform for all he was worth. He 
was only a distress to everybody when he drank. 

All right, Clancy. And when you are perfectly yourself you can 
come and see Lieutenant Hayne as soon as you like.’^ 

Loot’nant Hayne is it, sir ? Shure Vd be beggin’ his pardon for 
the vexation I gave him last night.” 

But you have something you wanted to speak with him about. 
You said so last night, Clancy,” said the doctor, looking him squarely 
in the eye. 

Shure I was dhrunk, sir. I didn’t mane it,” he answered ; but 
he shrank and cowered. 

The doctor turned and left him. 

If it’s only when he’s drunk that conscience pricks him and the 
truth will out, then we must have him diunk again,” quoth this un- 
principled practitioner. 

That same afternoon Miss Travers found that a headache was the 
result of confinement to an atmosphere somewhat heavily charged with 
electricity. Mrs. Bayner seemed to bristle every time she approached 
her sister. Possibly it was the heart, more than the head, that ached, 
but in either case she needed relief from the exposed position she had 
occupied ever since Kate’s return from the Clancys’ in the morning. 
She had been too long under fire, and was wearied. Even the cheery 
visits of the garrison gallants had proved of little avail, for Mrs. 
Rayner was in very ill temper, and made snappish remarks to them 
which two of them resented and speedily took themselves off. Later 
Miss Travers went to her room and wrote a letter, and then the sunset 
gun shook the window, and twilight settled down upon the still frozen 

E* 


lOG 


THE DESERTER, 


earth. She bathed her heated forehead and flushed cheeks, threw a 
warm cloak over her shoulders, and came slowly down the stairs. Mrs. 
Kayner met her at the parlor door. 

Kate, I am going for a walk, and shall stop and see Mrs. Waldron.’^ 

Quite an unnecessary piece of information. I saw him as well as 
you. He has just gone there.^^ 

Miss Travers flushed hot with indignation : 

I have seen no one ; and if you mean that Mr. Hayne has gone 
to Major Waldron’s, I shall not.” 

Ko : I’d meet him on the walk : it would only be a trifle more 
public.” 

You have no right to accuse me of the faintest expectation of 
meeting him anywhere. I repeat, I had not thought of such a thing.” 

You might just as well do it. You cannot make your antagonism 
to my husband much more pointed than you have already. And as 
for meeting Mr. Hayne, the only advice I presume to give now is that 
for your own sake you keep your blushes under better control than 
you did the last time you met — that I know of.” And, with this 
triumphant insult as a parting shot, Mrs. Rayner wheeled and marched 
off through the parlor. 

What was a girl to do? Nellie Travers was not of the crying 
kind, and was denied a vast amount of comfort in consequence. She 
stood a few moments quivering under the lash of injustice and insult 
to which she had been subjected. She longed for a breath of pure, 
fresh air ; but there would be no enjoyment even in that now. She 
needed sympathy and help, if ever girl did, but where was she to find 
it ? The women who most attracted her and who would have warmly 
welcomed her at any time — ^the women whom she would eagerly have 
gone to in her trouble — were practically denied to her. Mrs. Rayner 
in her quarrel had declared war against the cavalry, and Mrs. Stannard 
and Mrs. Ray, who had shown a disposition to welcome Nellie warmly, 
were no longer callers at the house. Mrs. Waldron, who was kind 
and motherly to the girl and loved to have her with her, was so embar- 
rassed by Mrs. Rayner’s determined snubs that she hardly knew how 
to treat the matter. She would no longer visit Mrs. Rayner informally, 
as had been her custom, yet she wanted the girl to come to her. If 
she went, Miss Travers well knew that on her return to the house she 
would be received by a volley of sarcasms about her preference for the. 
society of people who were the avowed enemies of her benefactors. If 


THE DESERTER. 


107 


Bhe remained m the house, it was to become in person the target for her 
sister’s undeserved sneers and censure. The situation was becoming 
simply unbearable. Twice she began and twice she tore to fragments 
the letter for which Mr. Van Antwerp was daily imploring, and this 
evening she once more turned and slowly sought her room, threw off 
her wraps, and took up her writing-desk. It was not yet dark. There 
was still light enough for her purpose, if she went close to the window. 
Every nerve was tingling with the sense of wrong and ignominy ; 
every throb of her heart but intensified the longing for relief from the 
thraldom of her position. She saw only one path to lead her from 
such crushing dependence. There was his last letter, received only 
that day, urging, imploring her to leave Warrener forthwith. Mrs,. 
Rayner had declared to him her readiness to bring her East provided 
she would fix an early date for the wedding. Was it not a future 
many a girl ffiight envy? Was he not tender, faithful, patient, de- 
voted as man could be ? Had he not social position and competence ? 
Was he not high-bred, courteous, refined, — a gentleman in all his acts 
and words? Why could she not love him, and be content? There 
on the desk lay a little scrap of note-paper ; there lay her pen ; a dozen 
words only were necessary. One moment she gazed longingly, wist- 
fully, at the far-away, darkening heights of the Rockies, watching the 
last rose-tinted gleams on the snowy peaks ; then with sudden impulse 
she seized her pen and drew the portfolio to the window-seat. As she 
did so, a soldierly figure came briskly down the walk ; a pale, clear- 
cut face glanced up at her casement ; a quick light of recognition and 
pleasure flashed in his eyes ; the little forage-cap was raised with cour- 
teous grace, though the step never slackened, and Miss Travers felt 
that her cheek, too, was flushing again, as Mr. Hayne strode rapidly 

by. She stood there another moment, and then it had grown too 

dark to write. 

When Mrs. Rayner, after calling twice from the bottom of the 
stairs, finally went up into her room and impatiently pushed open the 
door, all was darkness except the glimmer from the hearth : 

Nellie, where are you ?” 

“ Here,” answered Miss Travers, starting up from the sofa. 1 
think I must have been asleep.” 

Your head is hot as fire,” said her sister, laying her firm white 
hand upon the burning forehead. I suppose you are going to be 


108 


THE DESERTER. 


downright ill, by ^ay of diversion. Just understand one thing, Nellie : 
that doctor does not come into my house.^^ 

What doctor ? — not that I want one,’^ asked Miss Travers, 
wearil}^ 

Dr. Pease, the post surgeon, I mean. Of course you have heard 
how he is mixing himself in my husband’s affairs and making trouble 
with various people.” 

I have heard nothing, Kate.” 

I don’t wonder your friends are ashamed to tell you. Things have 
come to a pretty pass, when officers are going around holding private 
meetings with enlisted men !” 

I hardly know the doctor at all, Kate, and cannot imagine what 
affairs of your husband’s he can interfere with.” 

It was he that put up Clancy to making the disturbance at Mr. 
Hayne’s last night and getting into the guard-house, ancftried to prove 
that he had a right to go there and that the captain had no right to 
arrest him.” 

Was Clancy trying to see Mr. Hayne?” asked Miss Travers, 
quickly. 

How should I know ?” said her sister, pettishly. He was drunk, 
and probably didn’t know what he was doing.” 

^^And Captain Rayner arrested him for — for trying to see Mr. 
Hayne ?” 

Captain Rayner arrested him for being drunk and creating a dis- 
turbance, as it was his duty to arrest any soldier under such circum- 
stances,” replied her sister, with majestic wrath, “ and I will not tolerate 
it that you should criticise his conduct.” 

I have made no criticism, Kate. I have simply made inquiry j 
but I have learned what no one else could have made me believe.” 

Nellie Travers, be careful what you say, or what you insinuate. 
What do you mean ?” 

I mean, Kate, that it is my belief that there is something at the 
bottom of those stories of Clancy’s strange talk when in the hospital. 
I believe he thinks he knows something which would turn all suspicion 
from Mr. Hayne to a totally different man. I believe that, for reasons 
which I cannot fathom, you are determined Mr. Hayne shall not see 
him or hear of it. It was you that sent Captain Rayner over there 
l9st night. Mrs. Clancy came here at tattoo, and, from the time she 
left, you were at the front door or window. You were the first to heai 


THE DESERTER. 


109 


her cries, and came running in to tell the captain t) go at once. Kate, 
why did you_ stand there listening from the time she left the kitchen, 
unless you expected to hear just what happened over there behind the 
company barracks 

Mrs. Rayner would give no answer. Anger, rage, retaliation, all 
in turn were pictured on her furious face, but died away before the 
calm and unconquerable gaze in her sister’s eyes. For the first time in 
her life Kate Rayner realized that her baby Nell” had the stronger 
will of the two. For one instant she contemplated vengeance. A 
torrent of invective leaped readily to her lips. Outrage,” ingrate,” 
insult,” were the first three distinguishable epithets applied to her 
sister or her sister’s words ; then, ^‘See if Mr. Van Antwerp will tolerate 
such conduct. I’ll write this very day,” was the impotent threat that 
followed ; and finally, utterly defeated, thoroughly convinced that she 
was powerless against her sister’s reckless love of fair play at any 
price,” she felt that her wrath was giving way to dismay, and turned 
and fled, lest Nellie should see the flag of surrender on her paling cheeks. 

XIII. 

Two nights after this, as Captain Buxton was sulkily going the 
rounds of the sentries he made a discovery which greatly enlivened an 
otherwise uneventful tour as officer of the day. It had been his general 
custom on such occasions to take the shortest way across the parade to 
the guard-house, make brief and perfunctory inspection there, then go 
on down the hill to the creek valley and successively visit the sentries 
around the stables. If the night were wet or cold, he went back the 
same way, ignoring the sentries at the coal- and store-sheds along 
Prairie Avenue. This was a sharply cold night, and very dark, but 
equally still. It was between twelve and one o’clock — nearer one than 
twelve — as he climbed the hill on his homeward way, and, instead of 
taking the short cut, turned northward and struck for the gloomy mass 
of sheds dimly discernible some forty yards from the crest. He had 
heard other officers speak of the fact that Mr. Hayne’s lights were 
burning until long after midnight, and that, dropping in there, they had 
found him seated at his desk with a green shade over his eyes, studying 
by the aid of two student-lamps ; boning to be a general, probably,” 
was the comment of captains of Buxton’s calibre, who, having grown 
old in the service and in their own ignorance, were fiercely intolerant of 

10 


A 


no 


THE DESERTER. 


lieutenants who strove to improve in professional reading instead ot 
spending their time making out the company muster-rolls and clothing- 
accounts, as they should do. Buxton wanted to see for himself what 
the night-lights meant, and was plunging heavily ahead through the 
darkness, when suddenly brought to a stand by the sharp challenge of 
the sentry at the coal-shed. He whispered the mystic countersign over 
the levelled bayonet of the infantryman, swearing to himself at the 
regulation which puts an officer in such a stand-and-deliver’^ attitude 
for the time being, and then, by way of getting square with the soldier 
for the sharply military way in which his duty as sentry had been per- 
formed, the captain proceeded to catechise him as to his orders. The 
soldier had been well taught, and knew all his responses’’ by rote, — 
far better than Buxton, for that matter, as the latter was anything but 
an exemplar of perfection in tactics or sentry duty; but this did not 
prevent Buxton’s snappishly telling him he was wrong in several points 
and contemptuously inquiring where he had learned such trash. The 
soldier promptly but respectfully responded that those were the exact 
instructions he had received at the adjutant’s school, and Buxton 
knew from experience that he was getting on dangerous ground. He 
would have stuck to his point, however, in default of something else 
to find fault with, but that the crack of a whip, the crunching of hoofs, 
and a rattle of wheels out in the darkness quickly diverted his atten- 
tion. 

What’s that, sentry ?” he sharply inquired. 

A carriage, sir. Leastwise, I think it must be.” 

Why don’t you know, sir ? It must have been on your post.” 

'^No, sir; it was ’way off my post. It drove up to Lieutenant 
Ilayne’s about half an hour ago.” 

Where’d it come from ?” asked the captain, eagerly. 

From town, sir, I suppose.” And, leaving the sentry to his own 
reflections, which, on the whole, were not complimentary to his superior 
officer. Captain Buxton strode rapidly through the darkness to Lieuten- 
ant Hayne’s quarters. Bright lights were still burning within, both 
on the ground-floor and in a room above. The sentries were just 
beginning the call of one o’clock when he reached the gate and halted, 
gazing inquisitively at the house front. Then he turned and listened 
to the rattle of wheels growing faint in the distance as the team drove 
away towards the prairie town. If Hayne had gone to town at that 
hour of the night it was a most unusual proceeding, and he had not 


% 


THE DESERTER. 


ill 


the coloners 'permission to absent himself from the post : of that the 
officer of the day was certain. Then, again, he would not have gone 
and left all his lights burning. No : that vehicle, whatever it was, 
had brought somebody out to see him, — somebody who proposed to 
remain several hours ; otherwise the carriage would not have driven 
away. In confirmation of this theory, he heard voices, cheery voices, 
in laughing talk, and one of them made him prick up his ears. He 
heard the piano crisply trilling a response to light, skilful fingers. He 
longed for a peep within, and regretted that he had dropped Mr. Hayne 
from the list of his acquaintance. He recognized Hayne’s shadow, 
presently, thrown by the lamp upon the curtained window, and wished 
that his visitor would come similarly into view. He heard the clink 
of glasses, and saw the shadow raise a wineglass to the lips, and Sam’s 
Mongolian shape flitted across the screen, bearing a tray with similar 
cuggestive objects. What meant this unheard-of conviviality on the 
part of the ascetic, the hermit, the midnight-oil -burner, the scholarly 
recluse of the garrison ? Buxton stared with all his eyes and listened 
with all his ears, starting guiltily when he heard a martial footstep 
coming quickly up the path, and faced the intruder rather unsteadily. 
It was only the corporal of the guard, and he glanced at his superior, 
brought his fur-gauntleted hand in salute to the rifle on his shoulder, 
and passed on. The next moment Buxton fairly gasped with amaze : 
he stared an instant at the window as though transfixed, then ran after 
the corporal, called to him in low, stealthy tone to come back noise- 
lessly, drew him by the sleeve to the front of Hayne’s quarters, and 
pointed to the parlor window. Two shadows were there now, — one 
easily recognizable as that of the young officer in his snugly-fitting 
undress uniform, the other slender, graceful, feminine. 

What do you make that other shadow to be, corporal ?” he 
whispered, hoarsely and hurriedly. Look And with that excla- 
mation a shadowed arm seemed to encircle the slender form, the mous- 
tached image to bend low and mingle with the outlined luxuriance of 
tress that decked the other’s head, and then, together, with clasping 
arms, the shadows moved from view. 

What was the other, corporal ?” he repeated. 

Well, sir, I should say it was a young woman.” 

Buxton could hardly wait until morning to see Rayner. When he 
passed the latter’s quarters half an hour later, all was darkness ; though, 
had he but known it, Rayner was not asleep. He was at the house 


112 


THE DESERTER, 


before guard-mounting, and had a confidential and evidently exciting 
talk with the captain ; and when he went, just as the trumpets were 
sounding, these words were heard at the front door : 

She never left until after daylight, when the same rig drove her 
back to town. There was a stranger with her then.” 

That morning both Rayner and Buxton looked hard at Mr. Hayne 
when he came in to the niatinSe; but he was just as calm and quiet 
as ever, and, having saluted the commanding officer, took a seat by 
Captain Gregg and was soon occupied in conversation with him. Not 
a word was said by the officer of the day about the mysterious visitor 
to the garrison the previous night. With Captain Rayner, however, 
he was again in conversation much of the day, and to him, not to his 
successor as officer of the day, did he communicate all the details of the 
previous night^s adventure and his theories thereanent. 

Late that night, having occasion to step to his front door, convinced 
that he heard stealthy footsteps on his piazza, Mr. Hayne could see no- 
body in the darkness, but found his front gate open. He walked around 
his little house ; but not a man was visible. His heart was full of a 
new and strange excitement that night, and, as before, he threw on his 
overcoat and furs and took a rapid walk around the garrison, gazing up 
into the starry heavens and drinking in great draughts of the pure, 
bracing air. Returning, he came down along the front of officers’ row, 
and as he approached Rayner’s quarters his eyes rested longingly upon 
the window he knew to be hers now ; but all was darkness. As he 
rapidly neared the house, however, he became aware of two bulky 
figures at the gate, and, as he walked briskly past, recognized the over- 
coats as those of officers. One man was doubtless Rayner, the other 
he could not tell ; for both, the instant they recognized his step, seemed 
to avert their heads. Once home again, he soon sought his room and 
pillow ; but, long before he could sleep, again and again a sweet vision 
seemed to come to him : he ccndd not shut out the thought of Nellie 
Travers, — of how she looked and what she said that very afternoon. 

He had gone to call at Mrs. Waldron’s soon after dark. He was 
at the piano, playing for her, when he became conscious that another 
lady had entered the room, and, turning, saw Nellie Travers. He rose 
and bowed to her, extending his hand as he did so, and knowing that 
his heart was thumping and his color rising as he felt the soft, warm 
touch of her slender fingers in his grasp. She, too, had flushed, — any 
one could see it, though the lamps were not turned high, nor was the 
firelight strong. 


THE DESERTER, 


113 


Miss Travers has come to take tea very quietly with me, Mr. 
Hayne, — she is so soon to return to the East, — and now I want you to 
stay and join us. No one will be here but the major ; and we will have 
a lovely time with our music. You will, won’t you?” 

So soon to return to the East !” How harsh, how strange and un- 
welcome, the words sounded ! How they seemed to oppress him and 
prevent his reply ! He stood a moment dazed and vaguely worried : 
he could not explain it. He looked from Mrs. Waldron’s kind face to 
tlie sweet, flushed, lovely features there so near him, and something told 
him that he could never let them go and find even hope or content in 
life again. How, why had she so strangely come into his lonely life, 
radiant, beautiful, bewildering as some suddenly blazing star in the 
darkest corner of the heavens ? Whence had come this strange power 
that enthralled him ? He gazed into her sweet face, with its downcast, 
troubled eyes, and then, in bewilderment, turned to Mrs. Waldron : 

“ I — I had no idea Miss Travers was going East again just now. 
It seems only a few days since she came.” 

It is over a month ; but all the same this is a sudden decision. I 
knew nothing of it until yesterday. — You said Mrs. Rayner was better 
to-day, Nellie?” 

“ Yes, a little ; but she is far from well. I think the captain will 
go, too, just as soon as he- can arrange for leave of absence,” was the 
low-toned answer. He had released, or rather she had withdrawn, her 
hand, and he still stood there, fascinated. His eyes coidd not quit their 
gaze. She going away ? — She ? Oh, it could not be ! What — what 
would life become without the sight of that radiant face, that slender, 
graceful, girlish form? 

“ Is not this very unexpected ?” he struggled to say. I thought — 

I heard you were to spend several months here.” 

It was so intended, Mr. Hayne ; but my sister’s health requires 
speedy change. She has been growing worse ever since we came, and 
she will not get well here.” 

And when do you go ?” he asked, blankly. 

Just as soon as we can pack ; though we may wait two or three 
days for a — for a telegram.” 

There was a complete break in the conversation for a full quarter 
of a minute, — not such a long time in itself, but unconventionally long 
under such circumstances. Then Mrs. Waldron suddenly and remark- 
ably arose : 


10 * 


114 


THE DESERTER, 


leave you to entertain Mr. Hayne a few moments, Nellie. 
I am the slave of my cook, and she knows nothing of Mr. Hayne’s 
being here to tea with us : so I must tell her and avert disaster 
And with this barefaced — statement on her lips and conscience, where it 
rested wdth equal lightness, that exemplary lady quitted the room. In 
the sanctity of the connubial chamber that evening, some hours later, 
she thus explained her action to her silent spouse : 

Right or wrong, I meant that those two young people should have 
a chance to know each other. I have been convinced for three weeks 
that she is being forced into this New York match, and for the last 
week that she is wretchedly unhappy. You say you believe him a 
wronged and injured man, only you can^t prove it, and you have said 
that nothing could be too good for him in this life as a reward for all 
his bravery and fortitude under fearful trials. Then Nellie Travers isn’t 
too good for him, sweet as she is, and I don’t care who calls me a match- 
maker.” 

But with Mrs. Waldron away the two appeared to have made but 
halting progress towards friendship. With all her outspoken pluck at 
school and at home. Miss Travers was strangely ill at ease and em- 
barrassed now. Mr. Hayne was the first to gain self-control and to 
endeavor to bring the conversation back to a natural channel. It was 
a struggle ; but he had grown accustomed to struggles. He could not 
imagine that a girl whom he had met only once or twice should have 
for him anything more than the vaguest and most casual interest. He 
well knew by this time how deep and vehement was the interest she 
had aroused in his heart ; but it would never do to betray himself so 
soon. He strove to interest her in reference to the music she would 
hear, and to learn from her where they were going. This she answered. 
They would go no farther East than St. Louis or Chicago. They might 
go South as far as Nashville until mid-May. As for the summer, 
it would depend on the captain and his leave of absence. It was all 
vague and unsettled. Mrs. Rayner was so wretched that her husband 
was convinced that she ought to leave for the States as soon as possible, 
and of course she” must go with her. All the gladness, brightness, 
vivacity he had seen and heard of as her marked characteristics seemed 
gone ; and, yet, she wanted to speak with him, — wanted to be with 
him. What could be wrong? he asked himself. It was not until Mrs. 
Waldron’s step was heard returning that she nerved herself to sudden, 
almost desperate, effort. She startled him with her vehempnce : 


THE DESEBTER. 


115 


Mr. Hayne, there is something I must tell you before I go. If 
no opportunity occur, I’ll write it.” 

And those were the words that had been haunting him all the 
evening, for they were not again alone, and he had no chance to ask a 
question. What could she mean? For years he had been living a life 
of stern self-denial ; but long before his promotion the last penny of 
the obligation that, justly or otherwise, had been laid upon his shoulders 
was paid with interest. He was a man free and self-respecting, strong, 
resolute, and possessed of an independence that never would have been 
his had his life run on in the same easy, trusting, happy-go-lucky style 
in which he had spent the first two years of his army career. But in 
his isolation he had allowed himself no thought of anything that could 
for a moment distract him from the stern purpose to which he had de- 
voted every energy. He would win back, command, compel, the respect 
of his comrades, — would bring to confusion those who had sought to 
pull him down ; and until that stood accomplished he would know no 
other claim. In the exile of the mountain-station he saw no women 
but the wives of his senior officers ; and they merely bowed when they 
happened to meet him : some did not even do that. Now at last he 
had met and yielded to the first of two conquerors before whom even 
the bravest and the strongest go down infallibly, — Love and Death. 
Suddenly, but irresistibly, the sweet face and thrilling tones of that 
young girl had seized and filled his heart, to the utter exclusion of every 
other passion ; and just in proportion to the emptiness and yearning of 
his life before their meeting was the intensity of the love and longing 
that possessed him now. It was useless to try and analyze the sudden- 
ness and subtilty of its approach : the power of love had overmastered 
him. He could only realize that it was here and he must obey. Late 
into the morning hours he lay there, his brain whirling with its varied 
and bewildering emotions. Win her he must, or the blackness and 
desolation of the past five years would be as nothing compared with 
the misery of the years to come. Woo her he would, and not without 
hope, if ever woman’s eyes gave proof of sympathy and trust. But 
now at last he realized that the time had come when for her sake — not 
for his — he must adopt a new course. Hitherto he had scorned and 
repelled all overtures that were not prefaced by an expression of belief 
in his utter innocence in the past. Hitherto he had chosen to live the 
life of an anchorite, and had abjured the society of women. Hitherto 
he had refused the half-extended proffers of comrades who had sought 


116 


THE DESERTER. 


to continue the investigation of a chain of circumstances that, complete, 
might have proved him a wronged and defrauded man. The missing 
links were not beyond recovery in skilful hands ; but in the shock and 
horror which he felt on realizing that it was not only possible but cer- 
tain that a jury of his comrade officers could deem him guilty of a low 
crime, he hid his face and turned from all. Now the time had come 
to reopen the case. He well knew that a revulsion of feeling had set 
in which nothing but his own stubbornness held in check. He knew 
that he had friends and sympathizers among officers high in rank. He 
had only a few days before heard from Major Waldron’s lips a strong 
intimation that it was his duty to “ come out of his shell” and reassert 
himself. You must remember this, Hayne,” said he : you had been 
only two years in service when tried by court-martial. You were an 
utter stranger to every member of that court. There was nothing but 
the evidence to go upon, and that was all against you. The court was 
made up of officers from other regiments, and was at least impartial. 
The evidence was almost all from your own, and was presumably well 
founded. You would call no witnesses for defence. You made your 
almost defiant statement ; refused counsel ; refused advice ; and what 
could the court do but convict and sentence ? Had I been a member 
of the court I would have voted just as was done by the court ; and 
yet I believe you now an utterly innocent man.” 

So, apparently, did the colonel regard him. So, too, did several of 
the officers of the cavalry. So, too, would most of the youngsters of 
his own regiment if he would only give them half a chance. In any 
event, the score was wiped out now ; he could afford to take a wife if a 
woman learned to love him, and what wealth of tenderness and devo- 
tion was he not ready to lavish on one who would ! But he would offer 
no one a tarnished name. First and foremost he must now stand up and 
fight that calumny, — come out of his shell,” as Waldron had said, and 
give people a chance to see what manner of man he was. God helping 
him, he would, and that without delay. 

XIV. 

The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.” Mrs. 
Rayner, ill in mind and body, had yielded to her lord’s entreaties and 
determined to start eastward with her sister without delay. Pack- 
ing was already begun. Miss Travers had promised herself that she 


THE DESERTER, 


117 


would within thirty-six hours put Mr. Hayne in possession of certain 
facts or theories which in her opinion bore strongly upon the clear- 
ing up’’ of the case against him ; Mr. Hayne had determined that he 
would see Major Waldron on the coming day and begin active efforts 
towards the restoration of his social rights ; the doctor had about decided 
on a new project for inducing Clancy to unbosom himself of what he 
knew ; Captain Rayner — tired of the long struggle — was almost ready 
to welcome anything which should establish his subaltern’s innocence, 
and was on the point of asking for six months’ leave just as soon as he 
had arranged for Clancy’s final discharge from service : he had reasons 
for staying at the post until that Hibernian household was fairly and 
squarely removed ; and Mrs. Clancy’s plan was to take Mike to the 
distant East, where she had frinds.” There were other schemes and 
projects, no doubt, but these mainly concerned our leading characters, 
and one and all they were put to the right-about by the events of the 
following day. 

The colonel, with his gruff second in command, Major Stannard, 
had been under orders for several days to proceed on this particular 
date to a large town a day’s journey eastward by rail. A court-martial 
composed mainly of field-officers was ordered there to assemble for 
the trial of an old captain of cavalry whose propensity it was not so 
much to get drunk as never to get drunk without concomitant publicity 
and discovery. It was a rare thing for the old war-dog to take so much 
as a glass of wine ; he went for months without it ; but the instant 
he began to drink he was moved to do or say something disreputable, 
and that was the trouble now. He was an unlucky old trooper, who 
had risen from the lowest grades, fought with credit, and even, at 
times, commanded his regiment, during the war ; but war records could 
not save him when he wouldn’t save himself, and he had to go. The 
court was ordered, and the result was a foregone conclusion. The colonel, 
his adjutant, and Major Stannard were to drive to town during the after- 
noon and take the east-bound train, leaving Major Waldron in command 
of the post ; but before guard-mounting a telegram was received which 
was sent from department head-quarters the evening before, announcing 
that one of the officers detailed for the court was seriously ill, and direct- 
ing Major Waldron to take his place. So it resulted in the post being 
left to the command of the senior captain present for duty ; and that 
man was Captain Buxton. He had never had so big a command before 
in all his life. 


118 


THE DESERTER. 


Major Waldron of course had to go home and make his preparations. 
Mr. Hayne, therefore, had brief opportunity to speak with him. It was 
seen, however, that they had a short talk together on the major’s piazza, 
and that when they parted the major shook him warmly and cordially 
by the hand. Kayner, Buxton, Ross, and some juniors happened to be 
coming down along the walk at the moment, and, seeing them, as though 
with pointed meaning the major called out, so that all could hear, — 

“ By the way, Hayne, I wish you would drop in occasionally while 
I’m gone and take Mrs. Waldron out for a walk or drive : my horses 
are always at your service. And — a — I’ll write to you about that matter 
the moment I’ve had a chance to talk with the colonel, — to-morrow, 
probably.” And Hayne touched his cap in parting salute, and went 
blithely oif with brightened eye and rising color. 

Buxton glowered after him a moment, and conversation suddenly 
ceased in their party. Finally he blurted out, — 

Strikes me your major might do a good deal better by himself and 
his regiment by standing up for its morale and discipline than by openly 
flaunting his favoritism for convicts in our faces. If I were in your 
regiment I’d cut Aim.” 

You wouldn’t have to,” muttered one of the group to his neigh- 
bor : the cut would have been on the other side long ago.” And the 
speaker was Buxton’s own subaltern. 

Rayner said nothing. His eyes were troubled and anxious, and he 
looked after Hayne with an expression far more wearied than vindictive. 

“ The major is fond of music, captain,” said Mr. Ross, with mis- 
chievous intent. He hasn’t been to the club since the night you sang 
^ Eileen Alanna.’ That was about the time Hayne’s piano came.” 

Yes,” put in Foster, Mrs. Waldron says he goes and owls Hayne 
now night after night just to hear him play.” 

It would be well for him, then, if he kept a better guard on Mr. 
Hayne’s other visitors,” said Buxton, with a black scowl. I don’t 
know how you gentlemen in the Riflers look upon such matters, but in 
the — th the man who dared to introduce a woman of the town into his 
quarters would be kicked out in short order.” 

You don’t mean to say that anybody accuses Hayne of that, do 
you ?” asked Ross, in amaze. 

I dio, —jmt that. Only, I say this to you, it has but just come to 
light, and only one or two know it. To prove it positively he’s got 
to be allowed more rope ; for he got her out of the way last time before 


THE DESERTER. 


119 


we could clinch the matter. If he suspects it is known he won’t re- 
peat it ; if kept to ourselves he will probably try it again, — and be 
caught. Now I charge you all to regard this as confidential.” 

^^But, Captain Buxton,” said Ross, ^^this is so serious a matter 
that I don’t like to believe it. Who can prove such a story ?” 

^^Of course not, Mr. Ross. You are quite ready to treat a man as 
a thief, but can’t believe he’ll do another thing that is disreputable. 
That is characteristic of your style of reasoning,” said Buxton, with 
biting sarcasm. 

You can’t wither me with contempt, Captain Buxton. I have a 
right to my opinion, and I have known Mr. Hayne for years, and if 1 
did believe him guilty of one crime five years ago I’m not so ready to 
believe him guilty of another now. This isn’t — isn’t like Hayne.” 

No, of course not, as I said before. Now, will you tell me, Mr. 
Ross, just why Mr. Hayne chose that ramshackle old shanty out there 
on the prairie, all by himself, unless it was to be where he could have 
his chosen companions with him at night and no one be the wiser ?” 

I don’t pretend to fathom his motives, sir ; but I don’t believe it 
was for any such purpose as you seem to think.” 

^^In other words, you think I’m circulating baseless scandal, do 
you ?” 

I have said nothing of the kind ; and I protest against your put- 
ting words into my mouth I never used.” 

You intimated as much, anyhow, and you plainly don’t believe it.’ 

Well, I don’t believe — that is, I don’t see how it could happen.” 

Couldn’t the woman drive out from town after dark, send the 
carriage back, and have it call for her again in the morning ?” asked 
Buxton. 

^‘Possibly. Still, it isn’t a proved fact that a woman spent the 
night at Hayne’s, even if a carriage was seen coming out. You’ve got 
hold of some Sudsville gossip, probably,” replied Ross. 

I have, have I ? By God, sir. I’ll teach you better manners 
before we get through with this question. Do you know who saw 
the carriage, and who saw the woman, both at Hayne’s quarters?” 

Certainly I don’t ! M^hat I don’t understand is how you should 
have been made the recipient of the story.” 

“ Mr. Ross, just govern your tongue, sir, and remember you are 
speaking to your superior officer, and don’t venture to treat my state- 
ments with disrespect hereafter. I saw it myself T 


120 


THE DESERTER, 


You !” gulped Eoss, while amaze and incredulity shot across his 
startled face. 

You !’^ exclaimed others of the group, in evident astonishment 
and dismay. Eayner alone looked unchanged. It was no news to him, 
while to every other man in the party it was a shock. Up to that 
instant the prevailing belief had been, with Eoss, that Buxton had 
found some garrison gossip and was building an edifice thereon. His 
positive statement, however, was too much for the most incredulous. 

Now what have you to say he asked, in rude triumph. 

There was no answer for a moment ; then Eoss spoke : 

Of course. Captain Buxton, I withdraw any expression of doubt. 
It never occurred to me that you could have seen it. May I ask when 
and how?’^ 

The last time I was officer of the day, sir ; and Captain Eayner 
is my witness as to the time. Others, whom I need not mention, saw 
it with me. There is no mistake, sir. The woman was there.” And 
Buxton stood enjoying the effect. 

Eoss looked white and dazed. He turned slowly away, hesitated, 
looked back, then exclaimed, — 

You are sure it was — it was not some one that had a right to be 
there ?” 

^^How could it be?” snid Buxton, gruffly. ^^You know he has 
not an acquaintance in town, or here, who could be with him there at 
night.” 

Does the commanding officer know of it ?” asked Mr. Eoyce, after 
a moment’s silence. 

I am the commanding officer, Mr. Eoyce,” said Buxton, with 
majestic dignity, — at least I will be after twelve o’clock ; and you 
may depend upon it, gentlemen, this thing will not occur while I am 
in command without its receiving the exact treatment it deserves. Ee- 
member, now, not a word of this to anybody. You are as much in- 
terested as I am in bringing to justice a man who will disgrace his uni- 
form and his regiment and insult every lady in the garrison by such an 
act. This sort of thing of course will run him out of the service for 
good and all. We simply have to be sure of our ground and make the 
evidence conclusive. Leave that to me the next time it happens. I 
repeat, say nothing of this to any one.” 

But Eayner had already told his wife. 

Just as Major Waldron was driving off to the station that briglit 


THE DESERTER. 


121 


April afternoon and his carriage was whirling through the east gate, the 
driver caught sight of Lieutenant Hayne running up Prairie Avenue, 
waving his hand and shouting to him. He reined in his spirited bays 
with some difficulty, and Hayne finally caught up with them. 

“ What is it, Hayne?’’ asked Waldron, with kindly interest, leaning 
out of his carriage. 

They will be back to-night, sir. Here is a telegram that has just 
reached me.” 

I can’t tell you how sorry I am not to be here to welcome them ; 
but Mrs. Waldron will be delighted, and she will come to call the 
moment you let her know. Keep them till I get back, if you possibly 
can.” 

Ay, ay, sir. Good-by.” 

Good-by, Hayne. God bless you, and — good luck !” 

A little later that afternoon Mrs. Payner bad occasion to go into 
her sister’s room. It was almost sunset, and Nellie had been summoned 
down- stairs to see visitors. Both the ladies were busy with their pack- 
ing, — Mrs. Payner, as became an invalid, superintending, and Miss 
Travers, as became the junior, doing all the work. It was rather trying 
to pack all the trunks and receive visitors of both sexes at odd hours. 
Some of her garrison acquaintances would have beeu glad to come and 
help, but those whom she would have welcomed were not agreeable to 
the lady of the house, and those the lady of the house would have 
chosen were not agreeable to her. The relations between the sisters 
were somewhat strained and unnatural, and had been growing more and 
more so for several days past. Mrs. PaynePs desk was already packed 
away. She wanted to send a note, and bethought her of her sister’s 
portfolio. Opening it, she drew out some paper and envelopes, and 
with the latter came an envelope sealed and directed. One glance at 
its superscription sent the blood to her cheek and fire to her eye. Was 
it possible ? Was it credible ? Her pet, her baby sister, her pride and 
delight, — until she found her stronger in will, — her proud-spirited, 
truthful Nell, was beyond question corresponding with Lieutenant 
Hayne ! Here was a note addressed to him. How many more might 
not have been exchanged ? Puthlessly now she explored the desk, 
searching for something from him, but her scrutiny was vain. Oh, 
what could she say, what could she do, to convey to her erring sister 
an adequate sense of the extent of her displeasure ? How could she 
brinp* her to realize the shame, the guilt, the scandal, of her course ? 


122 


THE DESERTER, 


She, Nellie Travers, the betrothed wife of Steven Van Antwerp, corre- 
sponding secretly with this — this scoundrel, whose past, crime-laden as 
it had been, was as nothing compared to the present with its degrada- 
tion of vice ? Ah ! she had it ! What would ever move her as that 
could and must ? 

When the trumpets rang out their sunset call and the boom of the 
evening gun shook the windows in Fort Warrener and Nellie Travers 
came running up-stairs again to her room, she started at the sight that 
met her eyes. There stood Mrs. Rayner, like Juno in wrath inflexible, 
glaring at her from the commanding height of which she was so proud, 
and pointing in speechless indignation at the little note that lay upon 
the open portfolio. 

For a moment neither spoke. Then Miss Travers, who had turned 
very white, but whose blue eyes never flinched and whose lips were set 
and whose little foot was tapping the carpet ominously, thus began : 

“ Kate, I do not recognize your right to overhaul my desk or super- 
vise my correspondence.^^ 

“ Understand this first, Cornelia,’’ said Mrs. Rayner, who hated the 
baptismal name as much as did her sister, and used it only when she 
desired to be especially and desperately impressive : I found it by 
accident. I never dreamed of such a possibility as this. I never, 
even after what I have seen and heard, could have believed you guilty 
of this ; but, now that I have found it, I have the right to ask, what 
are its contents ?” 

I decline to tell you.” 

Do you deny my right to inquire ?” 

“ I will not discuss that question now. The other is far graver. 
I will not tell you, Kate, except this : there is no word there that an 
engaged girl should not write.” 

Of that I mean to satisfy myself, or rather ” 

You will not open it, Kate. No ! Put that letter down ! You 
have never known me to prevaricate in the faintest degree, and you 
have no excuse for doubting. I will furnish a copy of that for Mr. 
Van Antwerp at any time; but you cannot see it.” 

You still persist in your wicked and unnatural intimacy with that 
man, even after all that I have told you. Now for the last time hear 
me: I have striven not to^tell you this; I have striven not to sully 
your thoughts by such a revelation ; but, since nothing else will check 
vou, tell it I must, and what I tell you my husband told me in sacred 


THE DESERTER, 


123 


confidence, though soon enough it will be a scandal to the whole gar- 
rison.” 

And when darkness settled down on Fort Warrener that starlit 
April evening and the first warm breeze from the south came sighing 
about the casements and one by one the lights appeared along officers’ 
row, there w^as no light in Nellie Travers’s window. The little note lay 
in ashes on the hearth, and she, with burning, shame-stricken cheeks, 
with a black, scorching, gnawing pain at her heart, was hiding her face 
in her pillow. 

And yet it was a jolly evening, after all, — that is, for some hours 
and for some people. As Mrs. E-ayner and her sister were so soon to 
go, probably by the morrow’s train if their section could be secured, 
the garrison had decided to have an informal dance as a suitable fare- 
well. Their announcement of impending departure had come so sud- 
denly and unexpectedly that there was no time to prepare anything 
elaborate, such as a german with favors, etc. ; but good music and an 
extemporized supper could be had without trouble. The colonel’s wife 
and most of the cavalry ladies, on consultation, had decided that it was 
the very thing to do, and the young officers took hold with a will : 
they were always ready for a dance. Now that Mrs. Eayner was 
really going, the quarrel should be ignored, and the ladies would all be 
as pleasant to her as though nothing had happened, — provided, of course, 
she dropped her absurd airs of injured womanhood and behaved with 
courtesy. The colonel had had a brief talk with his better half before 
starting for the train, and suggested that it was very probable that Mrs. 
Eayner had seen the folly of her ways by that time, — the captain cer- 
tainly had been behaving as though he regretted the estrangement, — 
and if encouraged by a ^Met’s-drop-the- whole- thing” sort of manner 
she would be glad to reciprocate. He felt far less anxiety herein than 
he did in leaving the post to the command of Captain Buxton. So 
scrupulously had he been courteous to that intractable veteran that 
Buxton had no doubt in his own mind that the colonel looked upon him 
as the model officer of the regiment. It was singularly unfortunate 
that he should have to be left in command, but his one or two seniors 
among the captains were away on long leave, and there was no help for 
it. The colonel, seriously disquieted, had a few words of earnest talk 
with him before leaving the post, cautioning him so particularly not to 
hiterfere with any of the established details and customs that Buxton 
got very much annoyed, and showed it. 


124 


THE DESERTER 


If your evidence were not imperatively necessary before this court, 
I declare I believe I^d leave you behind,’^ said the colonel to his adju- 
tant. There is no telling what mischief Captain Buxton wonT do if 
left to himself.^^ 

It must have been near midnight, and the hop was going along 
beautifully, and Captain Rayner, who was officer of the day, was just 
escorting his wife in to supper, and Nellie, although looking a trifle 
tired and pale, was chatting brightly with a knot of young officers, 
when a corporal of the guard came to the door : The commanding 
officer's compliments, and he desires to see the officer of the day at 
once.’^ 

There was a general laugh. Isn’t that Buxton all over ? The 
colonel would never think of sending for an officer in the dead of night, 
except for a fire or alarm ; but old Bux. begins putting on frills the 
moment he gets a chance. Thank God, J’m not on guard to-night 
said Mr. Royce. 

^^What can he want with you?” asked Mrs. Rayner, pettishly. 
The idea of one captain ordering another around like this !” 

‘‘ I’ll be back in five minutes,” said Rayner, as he picked up his 
sword and disappeared. 

But ten minutes — fifteen — passed, and he came not. Mrs. Ray- 
ner grew worried, and Mr. Blake led her out on the rude piazza to see 
what they could see, and several others strolled out at the same time. 
The music had ceased, and the night air was not too cold. Not a soul 
was in sight out on the starlit parade. Not an unusual sound was 
heard. There was nothing to indicate the faintest trouble; and yet 
Captain Buxton, the commanding officer, had been called out by his 
striker” or soldier-servant before eleven o’clock, had not returned at 
all, and in little over half an hour had sent for the officer of the day. 
What did it mean ? Questioning and talking thus among themselves, 
somebody said, Hark !” and held up a warning hand. 

Faint, far, muffled, there sounded on the night air a shot, then a 
woman’s scream ; then all was still. 

“ Mrs. Clancy again !” said one. 

That was not Mrs. Clancy : ’twas a far different voice,” answered 
Blake, and tore away across the parade as fast as his long legs would 
carry him. 

Look ! The guard are running too !” cried Mrs. Waldron. “ What 
can it be?” And, sure enough, the gleam of the rifles could be seen 


THE DESERTER, 


125 


as the raen ran rapidly away in the direction of the east gate. ]\Irs. 
Rayner had grown ghastly, and was looking at Miss Travers, who with 
white lips and clinched hands stood leaning on one of the wooden 
posts and gazing with all her eyes across the dim level. Others came 
hurrying out from the hall. Other young officers ran in pursuit of the 
first starters. ^‘What’s the matter? What’s happened?” were the 
questions that flew from lip to lip. 

I — I must go home,” faltered Mrs. Rayner. Come, Nellie !” 

Oh, don’t go, Mrs. Rayner. It can’t be anything serious.” 

But, even as they urged, a man came running towards them. 

“ Is the doctor here ?” he panted. 

Yes. What’s the trouble ?” asked Dr. Pease, as he squeezed his 
burly form through the crowded door-way. 

You’re wanted, sir. Loot’nant Hayne’s shot ; an’ Captain Ray- 
ner he’s hurt too, sir.” 

XV. 

Straight as an arrow Mr. Blake had sped across the parade, darted 
through the east gate, and, turning, had arrived breathless at the wooden 
porch of Hayne’s quarters. Two bewildered-looking members of the 
guard were at the door. Blake pushed his way through the little hall- 
way and into the dimly-lighted parlor, where a strange scene met his 
eyes : Lieutenant Hayne lay senseless and white upon the lounge across 
the room ; a young and pretty woman, singularly like him in feature 
and in the color of her abundant tresses, was kneeling beside him, chafing 
his hands, imploring him to speak, — to look at her, — unmindful of the 
fact that her feet were bare and that only a loose wrapper was thrown 
over her white night-dress ; Captain Rayner was seated in a chair, deathly 
white, and striving to stanch the blood that flowed from a deep gash 
in his temple and forehead ; he seemed still stunned as by the force of 
the blow that had felled him ; and Buxton, speechless with amaze and 
heaven only knows what other emotions, was glaring at a tall, athletic 
stranger who, in stocking-feet, undershirt, and trousers, held by three 
frightened-looking soldiers and covered by the carbine of a fourth, Avas 
hurling defiance and denunciation at the commanding officer. A re- 
volver lay upon the floor at the feet of a corporal of the guard, who 
was groaning in pain. A thin veil of powder-smoke floated through 
the room. As Blake leaped in, — his cavalry shoulder-knots and helmet- 
cords gleaming in the light, — a flash of recognition shot into the stranger’s 


126 


THE DESERTER. 


eyes, and he curbed his fearful excitement and stopped short in his wrath. 

What devil’s work is this ?” demanded Blake, glaring intuitively 
at Buxton. 

These people resisted my guards, and had to take the consequences,” 
said Buxton, with surly — yet shaken — dignity. 

What were the guards doing here ? What, in God’s name, are you 
doing here?” demanded Blake, forgetful of all consideration of rank 
and command in the face of such evident catastrophe. 

I ordered them here, — to enter and search.” 

A pause. 

Search what ? — what for ?” 

For — a woman I had reason to believe he had brought out here 
from town.” 

Whatf You infernal idiot! Why, she’s his own sister, and this 
gentleman’s wife !” 

The silence, broken only by the hard breathing of some of the 
excited men and the moaning cry of the woman, was for a moment 
intense. 

Isn’t this Mr. Hurley ?” asked Blake, suddenly, as though to make 
sure, and turning one instant from his furious glare at his superior 
officer. The stranger, still held, though no longer struggling, replied 
between his set teeth, — 

Certainly. I’ve told him so.” 

By heaven, Buxton, is there no limit to your asininity ? Whal 
fearful work will you do next ?” 

“ I’ll arrest yoUy sir, if you speak another disrespectful word !” 
thundered Buxton, recovering consciousness that as commanding officer 
he could defend himself against Blake’s assault. 

Do it and be you know what I would, say if a lady were not 

present I Do it, if you think you can stand having this thing ventilated 
by a court. Pah ! I can’t waste words on you. Who’s gone for the 
doctor? Here, you men, let go of Mr. Hurley now. Help me, Mr. 
Hurley, please. Get your wife back to her room. Bring me some 
water, one of you.” And with that he was bending over Hayne and 
unbuttoning the fatigue-uniform in which he was still dressed. Another 
moment, and the doctor had come in, and with him half the young 
officers of the garrison. Rayner was led away to liis own quarters. 
Buxton, dazed and frightened now, ordered the guards back to their 
post, and stood pondering over the enormity of his blunder. No one 


THE LESERTEB. 


127 


spoke to him or paid the faintest attention other than to elbow him out 
of the way occasionally. The doctor never so much as noticed him. 
Blake had briefly recounted the catastrophe to those who first arrived, 
and as the story went from mouth to mouth it grew no better for Buxton. 
Once he turned short on Mr. Foster and in aggrieved and sullen tone 
remarked, — 

“ I thought you fellows in the Riflers said he had no relations.’^ 

We weren’t apt to be invited to meet them if he had ; but I don’t 
know that anybody was in position to know anything about it. What’s 
that got to do witli this aflair, I’d like to hear ?” 

At last somebody took him home. Mrs. Waldron, meantime, had 
arrived and been admitted to Mrs. Hurley’s room. The doctor refused 
to go to Captain Rayner’s, even when a messenger came from Mrs. 
Rayner herself. He referred her to his assistant. Dr. Grimes. Hayne 
had regained consciousness, but was sorely shaken. He had been floored 
by a blow from the butt of a musket ; but the report that he was shot 
proved happily untrue. His right hand still lay near the hilt of his 
light sword : there was little question that he had raised his weapon 
, against a suj^erior officer and would have used it with telling effect. 

Few people slept that night along officers’ row. Never had Warrener 
heard of such excitement. Buxton knew not what to do. He paced the 
floor in agony of mind, for he well understood that there was no shirk- 
ing the responsibility. From beginning to end he was the cause of the 
whole catastrophe. He had gone so far as to order his corporal to fire, 
and he knew it could be proved against him. Thank God, the per- 
plexed corporal had shot high, and the other men, barring the one who 
had saved Rayner from a furious lunge of the lieutenant’s sword, had 
used their weapons as gingerly and reluctantly as possible. At the very 
least, he knew, an investigation and fearful scandal must come of it. 
Night though it was, he sent for the acting adjutant and several of his 
brother captains, and, setting refreshments before them, besought their 
advice. He was still commanding officer de jure, but he had lost all 
stomach for its functions. He would have been glad to send for Blake 
and beg his pardon for submitting to his insubordinate and abusive lan- 
guage, if that course could have stopped inquiry ; but he well knew that 
the whole thing would be noised abroad in less than no time. At first 
he thought to give orders against the telegraph-operator’s sending any 
messages concerning the matter ; but that would ha\ie been only a tem- 
porary hinderance : he could not control the instruments and operators 


128 


THE DESERTER. 


in town, only three miles away. He almost wished he had been 
knocked down, shot, or stabbed in the mU^e; but he had kept in the 
rear when the skirmish began, and Rayner and the corporal were the 
sufferers. They had been knocked endwise^^ by Mr. Hurley’s prac- 
tised fists after Hayne was struck down by the corporal’s musket. It 
was the universal sentiment among the officers of the — th as they 
scattered to their homes that Buxton had w'ound himself up this time, 
anyhow and no one had any sympathy for him, — not one. The very 
best light in which he could tell the story only showed the affair as a 
flagrant and inexcusable outrage. 

Captain Rayner, too, was in fearful plight. He had simply obeyed 
orders ; but all the old story of his persecution of Hayne would now be 
revived ; all men would see in his participation in the affair only addi- 
tional reason to adjudge him cruelly persistent in his hatred of the young 
officer, and, in view of the utter ruthlessness and wrong of this assault, 
would be more than ever confident of the falsity of his position in the 
original case. As he was slowly led up-stairs to his room and his tear- 
ful wife and silent sister-in-law bathed and cleansed his wound, he saw 
with frightful clearness how the crush of circumstances was now upon 
him and his good name. Great heaven ! how those words of Hayne’s 
five years before rang, throbbed, burned, beat like trip-hammers through 
his whirling brain ! It seemed as though they followed him and his 
fortunes like a curse. He sat silent, stunned, awe-stricken at the force 
of the calamity that had befallen him. Plow could he ever induce an 
officer and a gentleman to believe that he was no instigator in this 
matter? — that it was all Buxton’s doing, Buxton’s low imagination 
that had conceived the possibility of such a crime on the part of Mr. 
Hayne, and Buxton’s blundering, bull-headed abuse of authority that 
had capped the fatal climax? It was some time before his wife could 
get him to speak at all. She was hysterically bemoaning the fate that 
had brought them into contact with such people, and from time to time 
giving vent to the comforting assertion that never had there been a 
cloud on their domestic or regimental sky until that wretch had been 
assigned to the Riflers. She knew from the hurried and guarded ex- 
planations of Dr. Grimes and one or two young officers who helped 
Rayner home that the fracas had occurred at Mr. Hayne’s, — that th(.Te 
had been a mistake for which her husband was not responsible, but that 
Captain Buxton was entirely to blame. But her husband’s ashen face 
told her a story of something far deeper : she knew that now he was' 


THE DESERTER. 


129 


involved in fearful trouble, and, whatever may have been her inner- 
most thoughts, it was the first and irresistible impulse to throw all the 
blame upon her scapegoat. Miss Travers, almost as pale and quite as 
silent as the captain, was busying herself in helping her sister ; but she 
could with difficulty restrain her longing to bid her be silent. She, too, 
had endeavored to learn from her escort on their hurried homeward 
rush across the parade what the nature of the disturbance had been. 
She, too, had suggested Clancy, but the officer by her side set his teeth 
as he replied that he wished it had been Clancy. She had heard, too, 
the message brought by a cavalry trumpeter from Mr. Blake : he 
wanted Captain Bay to come to Mr. Hayne’s as soon as he had seen 
Mrs. Ray safely home, and would he please ask Mrs. Stannard to come 
with him at the same time ? Why should Mr. Blake want Mrs. Stan- 
nard at Mr. Hayne’s ? She saw Mr. Foster run up and speak a few 
words to Mrs. Waldron, and heard that lady reply, “ Certainly. I will 
go with you now.’^ What could it mean ? At last, as she was return- 
ing to her sister^s room after a moment’s absence, she heard a question 
at which her heart stood still. It was Mrs. Rayner who asked, — 

But the creature was there, was she not ?” 

The answer sounded more like a moan of anguish : 

The creature was his sister. It was her husband who ” 

But, as Captain Rayner buried his battered face in his hands at this 
juncture, the rest of the sentence was inaudible. Miss Travers had 
heard quite enough, however. She stood there one moment, appalled, 
dropped upon the floor the bandage she had been making, turned and 
sought her room, and w^as seen no more that night. 

Over the day or two that followed this affair the veil of silence 
may best be drawn, in order to give time for the sediment of truth 
to settle through the whirlpool of stories in violent circulation. The 
colonel came back on the first train after the adjournment of the court, 
and could hardly wait for that formality. Contrary to his custom of 
sleeping on” a question, he was in his office within half an hour 
after his return to the post, and from that time until near tattoo was 
busily occupied taking the statements of the active participants in the 
affair. This was three days after its occurrence ; and Captain Rayner, 
though up and able to be about, had not left his quarters. Mrs. Ray- 
ner had abandoned her trip to the East, for the present at least. Mr. 
Hayne still lay weak and prostrate in his darkened room, attended 
hourly by Dr. Pease, who feared brain-fever, and nursed assiduously 


130 


THE DESERTER. 


by Mrs. Hurley, for whom Mrs. Waldrou, Mrs. Stannard, and many 
other ladies in the garrison could not do enough to content themselves. 
Mr. Hurley’s wrist was badly sprained and in a sling ; but the colonel 
went purposely to call upon him and to shake his other hand, and he 
begged to be permitted to see Mrs. Hurley, who came in pale and soft- 
eyed and with a gentle demeanor that touched the colonel more than 
he could tell. Her cheek flushed for a moment as he bent low over 
her hand and told her how bitterly he regretted that his absence from 
the post had resulted in so grievous an experience : it was not the 
welcome he and his regiment would have given her had they known of 
her intended visit. To Mr. Hurley he briefly said that he need not 
fear but that full justice would be meted out to the instigator or in- 
stigators of the assault ; but, as a something to make partial amends 
for their suffering, he said that nothing now could check the turn of 
the tide in their brother’s favor. All the cavalry officers except Bux- 
ton, all the infantry officers except Bayner, had already been to call 
upon him since the night of the occurrence, and had striven to show 
how distressed they were over the outrageous blunders of their tem- 
porary commander. Buxton had written a note expressive of a desire 
to see him and explain,” but was informed that explanations from 
him simply aggravated the injury ; and Bayner, crushed and humili- 
ated, was fairly in hiding in his room, too sick at heart to want to 
see anybody, and waiting for the action of the authorities in the con- 
fident expectation that nothing less than court-martial and disgrace 
would be his share of the outcome. He would gladly have resigned 
and gone at once, but that would have been resigning under virtual 
charges : he /lad to stay, and his wife had to stay wdth him, and Nellie 
with her. By this time Nellie Travers did not want to go. She had 
but one thought now, — to make amends to Mr. Hayne for the wrong her 
thoughts had done him. It was time for Mr. Van Antwerp to come 
to the wide West and look after his interests ; but Mrs. Bayner had 
ceased to urge, while he continued to implore her to bring Nellie East 
at once. Almost any man as rich and independent as Steven Van 
Antwerp would have gone to the scene and settled matters for himself. 
Singularly enough, this one solution of the problem seemed never to 
occur to him as feasible. 

Meantime, the colonel had patiently unravelled the threads and had 
brought to light the whole truth and tiothing but the truth. It made 
a singularly simple story, after all • but that was so much the worse for 


THE DESERTER. 


181 


Buxton. The only near relation Mr. Hayne had in the world was this 
one younger sister, who six years before had married a manly, ener- 
getic fellow, a civil engineer in the employ of an Eastern railway. 
During Hayne^s mountain-station’^ exile Hurley had brought his wife 
to Denver, where far better prospects awaited him. He won promotion 
in his profession, and was now one of the principal engineers employed 
by a road running new lines through the Colorado Rockies. Journey- 
ing to Salt Lake, he came around by way of Warrener, so that his 
wife and he might have a look at the brother she had not seen in years. 
Their train was due there early in the afternoon, but was blocked by 
drifts and did not reach the station until late at night. There they 
found a note from him begging them to take a carriage they would find 
waiting for them and come right out and spend the night at his quarters : 
he would send them back in abundant time to catch the westward train 
in the morning. He could not come in, because that involved the 
necessity of asking his captain’s permission, and they knew his relations 
with that captain. It was her shadow Buxton had seen on the window- 
screen ; and as none of Buxton’s acquaintances had ever mentioned that 
Hayne had any relations, and as Hayne, in fact, had had no one for 
years to talk to about his personal affairs, nobody but himself and the 
telegraph-operator at the post really knew of their sudden visit. Bux- 
ton, being an unmitigated cad, had put the worst interpretation on his 
discovery, and, in his eagerness to clinch the evidence of conduct unbe- 
coming an officer and a gentleman upon Mr. Hayne, had taken no wise 
head into his confidence. Never dreaming that the shadow could be that 
of a blood-relation, never doubting that a fair, frail companion from the 
frontier town was the explanation of Mr. Kayne’s preference for that 
out-of-the way house and late hours, he stated his discovery to Rayner 
as a positive fact, going so far as to say that his sentries had recognized 
her as she drove away in the carriage. If he had not been an ass as 
well as a cad, he would have interviewed the driver of the carriage ; 
but he had jumped at his theory, and his sudden elevation to the com- 
mand of the post gave him opportunity to carry out his virtuous de- 
termination that no such goings-on should disgrace his administration. 
He gave instructions to certain soldier clerks and daily-duty” men 
employed in the quartermaster, commissary, and ordnance offices along 
Prairie Avenue to keep their eyes open and let him know of any visi- 
tors coming out to Hayne’s by night, and if a lady came in a carriage he 
was to be called at once. Mr. Hurley promised that on their return 


132 


THE DESERTER, 


from Salt Lake they would come back by way of Warrener and spend 
two days with Hayne, since only an hour or two had they enjoyed of his 
company on their way West ; and the very day that the officers went off 
to the court came the telegram saying the Hurleys would arrive that 
evening. Hayne had already talked over their prospective visit with 
Major Waldron, and the latter had told his wife ; but all intercourse 
of a friendly character was at an end between them and the Kayners 
and Buxtons ; there were no more gossipy chats among the ladies. In- 
deed, it so happened that only to one or two people had Mrs. Waldron 
had time to mention that Mr. Hayne’s sister was coming, and neither 
the Eayners nor Buxtons had heard of it ; neither had Nellie Travers, 
for it was after the evening of her last visit that Mrs. Waldron was told. 

Hayne ran with his telegram to the major, and the latter had in- 
troduced himself and Major Stannard to Mrs. Hurley when, after a 
weary wait of some hours, the train arrived. Blake, too, was there, on 
the lookout for some friends, and he was presented to Mrs. Hurley while 
her husband was attending to some matters about the baggage. The 
train went on eastward, carrying the field-officers with it. Blake had 
to go with his friends back to the post, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurley, after 
the former had attended to some business and seen some railway asso- 
ciates of his at the hotel, took the carriage they had had before and 
drove out to the garrison, where Private Schweinkopf saw the lady rap- 
turously welcomed by Lieutenant Hayne and escorted into the house, 
while Mr. Hurley remained settling with the driver out in the darkness. 
It was not long before the commanding officer pro tern, was called from 
the hop-room, where the dance was going on delightfully, and notified 
that the mysterious visitor had again appeared, with evident intention 
of spending the night, as the carriage had returned to town. Why, 
certainly,^^ reasoned Buxton. It’s the very night he would choose, 
since everybody will be at the hop : no one will be apt to interfere, and 
everybody will be unusually drowsy and less inclined to take notice in 
the morning.” Here was ample opportunity for a brilliant stroke of 
work. He would first satisfy himself she was there, then surround 
the house with sentries so that she could not escape, while he, with 
the officer of the day and the corporal of the guard, entered the house 
and confronted him and her. That would wind up Mr. Hayne’s 
career beyond question : nothing short of dismissal could result. 
Over he went, full of his project, listened at Hayne’s like the eaves- 
dropping sneak he was, saw again the shadow of the graceful form 


THE DESERTER. 


133 


and heard the silvery, happy laugh, and then it was ne sent for Ray- 
ner. It was near midnight when he led his forces to the attack. A 
light was now burning in the second story, which he thought must be 
Sam’s ; but the lights had been turned low in the parlor, and the 
occupants had disappeared from sight and hearing. By inquiry he 
had ascertained that Hayne’s bedroom was just bpck of the parlor. 
A man was stationed at the back door, others at the sides, with orders 
to arrest any one who attempted to escape ; then softly he stepped to the 
front door, telling Rayner to follow him, and the corporal of the guard 
to follow both. To his surprise, the door was unlocked, and a light 
was burning in the hall. Never knocking, he stepped in, marched 
through the hall into the parlor, which was empty, and, signalling 

Come on” to his followers, crossed the parlor and seized the knob 
of the bedroom door. It was locked. Rayner, looking white and wor- 
ried, stood just behind him, and the corporal but a step farther back. 
Before Buxton could knock and demand admission, which was his 
intention, quick footsteps came flying down the stairs from the second 
story, and the trio wheeled about in surprise, to find Mr. Hayne, dressed 
in his fatigue uniform, standing at the threshold and staring at them 
with mingled astonishment, incredulity, and indignation. A sudden 
light seemed to dawn upon him as he glanced from one to the other. 
With a leap like a cat he threw himself upon Buxton, hurled him 
back, and stood at the closed door confronting them with blazing eyes 
and clinching fists. 

“ Open that door, sir !” cried Buxton. “ You have a woman hid- 
den there. Open, or stand aside.” 

You hounds ! I’ll kill the first man who dares enter !” was the 
furious answer; and Hayne had snatched from the wall his long in- 
fantry sword and flashed the blade in the lamplight. Rayner made 
a step forward, half irresolute. Hayne leaped at him like a tiger. 

Fire ! Quick !” shouted Buxton, in wild excitement. Bang ! went 
the carbine, and the bullet crashed through the plaster overhead, and, 
seeing the gleaming steel at his superior’s throat, the corporal had sent 
the heavy butt crashing upon the lieutenant’s skull only just in time : 
there would have been murder in another second. The next instant he . 
was standing on his own head in the corner, seeing a multitude of 
twinkling, whirling stars, from the midst of which Captain Rayner 
was reeling backward over a chair and a number of soldiers were rush- 


134 


THE DESERTER. 


ing upon a powerful picture of furious manhood, — a stranger in shirt- 
sleeves, who had leaped from the bedroom. 

Told as it was — as it had to be — all over the department, there 
seemed but one thing to say, and that referred to Buxton: ^^Well! 
isnH he a phenomenal ass 


XVI. 

Mr. Hayne was up and around again. The springtime was coming, 
and the prairie roads were good and dry, and the doctor had told him 
he must live in the open air awhile and ride and walk and drive. He 
stood in no want of mounts,’’ for three or four of his cavalry friends 
were ready to lend him a saddle-horse any day. Mr. and Mrs. Hurley, 
after making many pleasant acquaintances, had gone on to Denver, and 
Captain Buxton was congratulating himself tliat he, at least, had not 
run foul of the engineer’s powerful fists. Buxton was not in arrest, 
for the case had proved a singular poser.” It occurred during tlie 
temporary absence of the colonel : he could not well place the captain 
under arrest for things he had done when acting as post commander. 
In obedience to his orders from department head-quarters, he made his 
report of the affair, and indicated that Captain Buxton’s conduct had 
been inexcusable. Rayner had done nothing but, as was proved, re- 
luctantly obey the captain’s orders, so he could not be tried. Hayne, 
who had committed one of the most serious crimes in the military cata- 
logue, — that of drawing and raising a weapon against an officer who 
was in discharge of his duty (Rayner), — had the sympathy of the whole 
command, and nobody would prefer charges against him. The general 
decided to have the report go up to division head-quarters, and thence 
it went with its varied comments and endorsements to Washington ; 
and now a court of inquiry was talked of. Meantime, poor bewildered 
Buxton was let severely alone. What made him utterly miserable was 
the fact that in his own regiment, the — th, nobody spoke of it except 
as something that everybody knew was sure to happen the moment he 
got in command. If it hadn’t been that ’twould have been something 
else. The only certainty was that Buxton would never lose a chance 
of making an ass of himself. Instead of being furious with him, the 
whole regiment — officers and men — simply ridiculed and laughed at 
him. He had talked of preferring charges against Blake for insubordi- 
nation, and asked the adjutant what he thought of it. It was the first 


THE DESERTER. 


135 


time lie had spoken to the adjutant for weeks, and the adjutant rushed 
out of the office to tell the crowd to come in and hear Buxton’s latest.” 
It began to look as though nothing serious would ever come of the 
affair, until Bayner reappeared and people saw how very ill he was. Dr. 
Pease had been consulted ; and it was settled that he as well as his wife 
must go away for several months and have complete rest and change. 
It was decided that they would leave by the 1st of May. All this Mr. 
Hayne heard through his kind friend Mrs. Waldron. 

One day when he first began to sit up, and before he had been out 
at all, she came and sat with him in his sunshiny parlor. There had 
been a silence for a moment as she looked around upon the few pictures 
and upon that bareness and coldness which, do what he will, no man 
can eradicate from his abiding-place until he calls in the deft and dainty 
hand of woman. 

I shall be so glad when you have a wife, Mr. Hayne !” was her 
quiet comment. 

So shall I, Mrs. Waldron,” was the response. 

And isn’t it high time we were beginning to hear of a choice ? 
Forgive my intrusiveness, but that was the very matter of which the 
major and I were talking as he brought me over.” 

There is something to be done first, Mrs. Waldron,” he answered. 

I cannot offer any woman a clouded name. It is not enough that 
people should begin to believe that I was innocent and my persecutors 
utterly in error, if not perjured. I must be able to show who was the 
real culprit, and that is not easy. The doctor and I thought we saw a 
way not long ago ; but it proved delusive.” And he sighed deeply. I 
had expected to see the major about it the very day he got back from 
the court ; but we have had no chance to talk.” 

Mr. Hayne,” she said, impulsively, a woman’s intuition is not 
always at fault. Tell me if you believe that any one on the post has 
any inkling of the truth. I have a reason for asking.” 

I did think it possible, Mrs. Waldron. I cannot be certain now; 
and it’s too late, anyway.” 

How, too late ? What’s too late ?” 

He paused a moment, a deeper shadow than usual on his face ; then 
he lifted his head and looked fairly at her : 

“ I should not have said that, Mrs. Waldron. It can never be too 
late. But what I mean is that — just now I spoke of offering no woman 


136 


THE DESERTER. 


a clouded name. Even if it were unclouded, I could not offer it where 
I would.’’ 

Because you have heard of the engagement ?” was the quick, eager 
question. There was no instant of doubt in the woman as to where the 
offering would be made, if it only could. 

I knew of the engagement only a day ago,” he answered, with 
stern effort at self-control. Blake was speaking of her, and it came 
out all of a sudden.” 

He turned his head away again. It was more than Mrs. Waldron 
could stand. She leaned impetuously towards him, and put her hand 
on his : 

Mr. Hayne, that is no engagement of heart to heart. It is entirely 
a thing of Mrs. Rayner’s doing ; and I know it. She is poor, — depend- 
ent, — and has been simply sold into bondage.” 

And you think she cares nothing for the position, the wealth and 
social advantages, this would give her? Ah, Mrs. Waldron, consider.” 

I have considered. Mr. Hayne, if I were a man, like you, that 
child should never go back to him. And they are going next week. 
You must get well.” 

It was remarked that Mr. Hayne was out surprisingly quick for 
a fellow who had been so recently threatened with brain-fever. The 
Rayners were to go East at once, so it was said, though the captain’s 
leave of absence had not yet been ordered. The colonel could grant 
him seven days at any time, and he had telegraphic notification that 
there would be no objection when the formal application reached the 
War Department. Rayner called at the colonel’s office and asked that 
he might be permitted to start with his wife and sister. His second 
lieutenant would move in and occupy his quarters and take care of all 
his personal effects during their absence ; and Lieutenant Hayne was a 
most thorough officer, and he felt that in turning over his company to 
him he left it in excellent hands. The colonel saw the misery in the 
captain’s face, and he was touched by both looks and words : 

^^You must not take this last affair too much to heart. Captain 
Rayner. We in the — th have known Captain Buxton so many years 
that with us there is no question as to where all the blame lies. It 
seems, too, to be clearly understood by Mr. Hayne. As for your 
previous ideas of that officer, I consider it too delicate a matter to 
speak of. You must see, however, how entirely beyond reproach his 
general character appears to have been. But here’s another matter : 


THE DESERTER. 


137 


Clancy’s discharge has arrived. Does the old fellow know you had 
requested it?” 

No, sir,” answered Dayner, with hesitation and embarrassment. 
^^We wanted to keep him straight, as I told you we would, and he 
would probably get on a big tear if he knew his service-days were 
numbered. I didn’t look for its being granted for forty-eight hours 
yet.” 

^‘Well, he w'ill know it before night; and no doubt he will be 
badly cut up. Clancy was a fine soldier before he married that har- 
ridan of a woman.” 

She has made him a good wife since they came into the Riflers, 
colonel, and has taken mighty good care of the old fellow.” 

It is more than she did in the — th, sir. She was a handsome, 
showy woman when I first saw her, — before my promotion to the regi- 
ment, — and Clancy was one of the finest soldiers in the brigade the last 
year of the war. She ran through all his money, though, and in the 
— th we looked upon her as the real cause of his break-down, — especially 
after her affair with that sergeant who deserted. You’ve heard of him, 
probably. He disappeared after the Battle Butte campaign, and we 
hoped he’d run off with Mrs. Clancy ; but he hadn’t. She was there 
when we got back, big as ever, and growing ugly.” 

Do you mean that Mrs. Clancy had a lover when she was in the 
— th?” 

Certainly, Captain Rayner. We supposed it was commonly known. 
He was a fine-looking, black-eyed, dark-haired, dashing fellow, of good 
education, a great swell among the men the short time he was with us, 
and Mrs. Clancy made a dead set at him from the start. He never 
seemed to care for her very much.” 

This is something I never heard of,” said Rayner, with grave face, 
“ and it will be a good deal of a shock to my wife, for she had arranged 
to take her East with Clancy and Kate, and they were to invest their 
money in some little business at her old home.” 

Yes : it was mainly on the woman’s account we wouldn’t re-enlist 
Clancy in the — th. We could stan 1 him, but she was too much for us, 
— and for the other sergeant, too. He avoided her before we started on 
the campaign, I fancy. Odd ! I can’t think of his name. — Billings, 
what was the name of that howling swell of a sergeant who was in 
Hull’s troop at Battle Butte, — time Hull was kiP-ed? I mean the man 
that Mrs. Clancy was said to have eloped with.” 


138 


THE DESERTER. 


Sergeant Gower, sir,” said the adjutant, without looking up from 
his work. He did look up, however, when a moment after the captain 
hurriedly left the office, and he saw that Rayner^s face was deathly 
white : it was ghastly. 

What took Rayner off so suddenly ?” said the colonel, wheeling 
around in his chair. 

I don’t know, sir, unless there was something to startle him in 
the name.” 

Why should there be ?” 

There are those who think that Gower got away with more than 
his horse and arms, colonel : he was not at Battle Butte, though, and 
that is what made it a mystery.” 

Where w^as he then ?” 

^^Back with the wagon- train, sir ; and he never got in sight of the 
Buttes or Rayner’s battalion. You know Rayner had four companies 
there.” 

I don’t see how Gower could have taken the money, if that’s 
what you mean, if he never came up to the Buttes : Rayner swore it 
was there in Hull’s original package. Then, too, how could Gower’s 
name affect him if he had never seen him ?” 

Possibly he has heard something. Clancy has been talking.” 

“ I have looked into that,” said the colonel. Clancy denies know- 
ing anything, — says he was drunk and didn’t know what he was talk- 
ing about.” 

All the same it was queer, thought the adjutant, and he greatly 
wanted to see the doctor and talk with him ; but by the time his office- 
work was done the doctor had gone to town, and when he came back 
he was sent for to the laundress’s quarters, where Mrs. Clancy was in 
hysterics and Michael had again been very bad. 

Soon after the captain’s return to his quarters, it seems, a messenger 
was sent from Mrs. Rayner requesting Mrs. Clancy to come and see 
her at once. She was ushered up-stairs to madame’s own apartment, 
much to Miss Travers’s surprise, and that young lady was further as- 
tonished, when Mrs. Clancy reappeared, nearly an hour later, to see 
that she had been weeping violently. The house was in some disorder, 
most of the trunks being packed and in readiness for the start, and 
Miss Travers was entertaining two or three young officers and waiting 
for her sister to come down to luncheon. The boys” were lachrymose 
over her prospective departure, — at least they affected to be, — and were 


THE DESERTER. 


139 


variously sprawled about the parlor when Mrs. Clancy descended, and 
the inflamed condition of her eyes and nose became apparent to all. 
There was much chafl* and fun, therefore, when Mrs. Rayner finally 
appeared, over the supposed affliction of the big Irishwoman at the 
prospect of parting with her patroness. Miss Travers saw with sin- 
gular sensations that both the captain and her usually self-reliant sister 
were annoyed and embarrassed by the topic and strove to change it ; 
but Foster’s propensity for mimicry and his ability to imitate Mrs. 
Clancy’s combined brogue and sniffle proved too much for their efforts. 
Kate was in a royally bad temper by the time the youngsters left the 
house, and when Nellie would have made some laughing allusion to 
the fun the young fellows had been having over her morning caller, she 
was suddenly and tartly checked with — 

We’ve had too much of that already. Just understand now that 
you have no time to waste, if your packing is unfinished. We start 
to-morrow afternoon.” 

Why, Kate ! I had no idea we were to go for two days yet ! Of 
course I can be ready ; but why did you not tell me before ?” 

I did not know it — at least it was not decided — until this morn- 
ing, after the captain came back from the office. There is nothing to 
prevent our going, now that he has seen the colonel.” 

There was not before, Kate ; for Mr. Billings told me yesterday 
morning, and I told you, that the colonel had said you could start at 
once, and you replied that the captain could not be ready for several 
days, — three at least.” 

Well, now he is; and that ends it. Never mind what changed 
his mind.” 

It was unsafe to trifle with Nellie Travers, as Mrs. Rayner might 
have known. She saw that something had occurred to make the cap- 
tain eager to start at once ; and then there was that immediate sending 
for Mrs. Clancy, the long, secret talk up in Kate’s room, the evident 
mental disturbance of both feminines on their respective reappearances, 
and the sudden announcement to her. While there could be no time 
to make formal parting calls, there were still some two or three ladies 
in the garrison whom she longed to see before saying adieu ; and then 
there was Mr. Hayne, whom she had wronged quite as bitterly as any- 
one else had wronged him. He was out that day for the first time, and 
she longed to see him and longed to fulfil the neglected promise. Thai 
she must do at the very least. If she could not see him, she must write. 


140 


THE DESERTER. 


that he might have the note before they went away. All these thoughts 
were rushing through her brain as she busied herself about her little 
room, stowing away dresses and dropping everything from time to time 
to dart into her sister’s room in answer to some querulous call. Yet 
never did she leave without a quick glance from her window up and 
down the row. For whom was she looking ? 

It was just about dusk when she heard crying down-stairs, — a child, 
and apparently in the kitchen. Mrs. Rayner was with the baby, and 
Miss Travers started for the stairs, calling that she would go and see 
what it meant. She was down in the hall before Mrs. Rayner’s imper- 
ative and repeated calls brought her to a full stop. 

What is it?” she inquired. 

You come back here and hold baby. I know perfectly what it is. 
It is Kate Clancy ; and she wants me. You can do nothing.” 

Too late, madame ! The intervening doors were opened, and in 
marched cook, leading the poor little Irish girl, who was sobbing 
piteously. Mrs. Rayner came down the stairs with all speed, bringing 
her burly son and heir in her arms. She would have ordered Kell aloft, 
but what excuse could she give ? and Miss Travers was already bending 
over the child and striving to still her heart-breaking cries. 

What is it ? Where’s your father ?” demanded Mrs. Rayner. 

'^Oh, ma’am, I don’t know. I came here to tell the captain. 
Shure he’s discharged, ma’am, an’ his heart’s broke entirely, an’ 
mother says we’re all to go with the captain to-morrow, an’ he swears 
he’ll kill himself before he’ll go, an’ I can’t find him, ma’am. It’s 
almost dark now.” 

Go back and tell your mother I want her instantly. We’ll find 
your father. Go !” she repeated, as the child shrank and hesitated. 

Here, — the front way !” And little Kate sped away into the shadows 
across the dim level of the parade. 

Then the sisters faced each other. There was a fire in the younger’s 
eye that Mrs. Rayner would have escaped if she could. 

Kate, it is to get Clancy away from the possibility of revealing 
what he knows that you have planned this sudden move, and I know 
it,” said Miss Travers. You need not answer.” 

She seized a wrap from the hat-rack and stepped to the door-way. 
Mrs. Rayner threw herself after her. 

Nellie, where are you going? What will you do?” 

To Mrs. Waldron’s, Kate ; if need be, to Mr. Hayne’s.” 


THE DESERTER. 


141 


A bright fire was burning in Major Waldron’s cosey parlor, where 
he and his good wife were seated in earnest talk. It was just after 
sunset when Mr. Hayne dropped in to pay his first visit after the few 
days in which he had been confined to his quarters. He was looking 
thin, paler than usual, and far more restless and eager in manner than 
of old. The Waldrons welcomed him with more than usual warmth, 
and the major speedily led the conversation up to the topic which was 
so near to his heart. 

You . and I must see the doctor and have a triangular council over 
this thing, Hayne. Three heads are better than none ; and if, as he 
suspects, old Clancy really knows anything when he’s drunk that he 
cannot tell when he’s sober, I shall depart from Mrs. Waldron’s prin- 
ciples and join the doctor in his pet scheme of getting him drunk again. 
^In vino ventas/ you know. And we ought to be about it, too, for it 
won’t be long before his discharge comes, and, once away, we should be 
in the lurch.” 

There seems so little hope there, major. Even the colonel has 
called him up and questioned him.” 

Ay, very true, but always when the old sergeant was sober. It 
is when drunk that Clancy’s conscience pricks him to tell what he 
either knows or suspects.” 

A light, quick footstep was heard on the piazza, the hall door 
opened, and without knock or ring, bursting impetuously in upon them, 
there suddenly appeared Miss Travers, her eyes dilated with excite- 
ment. At sight of the group she stopped short, and colored to the 
very roots of her shining hair. 

How glad I am to see you, Nellie !” exclaimed Mrs. Waldron, as 
all rose to greet her. An embarrassed, half-distraught reply was her 
only answer. She had extended both hands to the elder lady; but 
now, startled, almost stunned, at finding herself in the presence of the 
very man she most wanted to see, she stood with downcast eyes, irreso- 
lute. He, too, had not stepped forward, — had not offered his hand. 
She raised her blue eyes for one quick glance, and saw his pale, pain- 
thinned face, read anew the story of his patience, his suffering, his 
heroism, and realized how she too had* wronged him and that her very 
awkwardness and silence might tell him that shameful fact. It was 
more than she could stand. 

I came — purposely. I hoped to find you, Mr. Hayne. You — 
you remember that I had something to tell you. It was about Clancy. 


142 


THE DESERTER. 


You ought to see him. I’m sure you ought, for he must know — he or 
Mrs. Clancy — something about your — your trouble; and I’ve just this 
minute heard that they — that he’s going away to-morrow ; and you 
must find him to-night, Mr. Hayne : indeed you must.” 

Who can paint her as she stood there, blushing, pleading, eager, 
frightened, yet determined ? Who can picture the wild emotion in his 
heart, reflected in his face ? He stepped quickly to her side with the 
light leaping to his eyes, his hands extended as though to grasp hers ; 
but it was Waldron that spoke first : 

Where is he going? — how?” 

^^Oh, with us, major. We go to-morrow, and they go with us. 
My sister has some reason — I cannot fathom it. She wants them 
away from here, and Clancy’s discharge came to-day. He must see 
him first,” she said, indicating Mr. Hayne by the nod of her pretty 
head. ^^They say Clancy has run off and got away from his wife. 
He doesn’t want to be discharged. They cannot find him now ; but 
perhaps Mr. Hayne can. — Mr. Hayne, try to. You — you must.” 

‘‘ Indeed we must, Hayne, and quick about it,” said the major. 

Now is our chance, I verily believe. Let us get the doctor first ; 
then little Kate will best know where to look for Clancy. Come, man, 
get your overcoat.” And he hastened to the hall. 

Hayne followed as though in a dream, reached the threshold, 
turned, looked back, made one quick step toward Miss Travers with 
outstretched hand, then checked himself as suddenly. His yearning 
eyes seemed fastened on her burning face, his lips quivered with the 
intensity of his emotion. She raised her eyes and gave him one quick 
look, half entreaty, half command ; he seemed ineffectually struggling 
to speak, — to thank her. One moment of irresolution, then, without 
a word of any kind, he sprang to the door. She carried his parting 
glance in her heart of hearts all night long. There was no mistaking 
what it told. 

XVII. 

The morning report of the following day showed some items under 
the head of Alterations” that involved several of the soldier characters 
of this story. Ex-Sergeant Clancy had been dropped from the column 
of present on daily duty” and taken up on that of absent without leave. 
Lieutenant Hayne was also reported absent. Dr. Pease and Lieutenant 
Billings drove into the garrison from town just before the cavalry 


THE DESERTER. 


143 


trumpets were sounding first call for guard-mounting, and the adjutant 
sent one of the musicians to give his compliments to Mr. Royce and ask 
him to mount the guard for him, as he had just returned and had im- 
portant business with the colonel. The doctor and the adjutant 
together went into the colonePs quarters, and for the first time on 
record the commanding officer was not at the desk in his office when 
the shoulder-straps began to gather for the matinee. 

Ten minutes after the usual time the adjutant darted in and plunged 
with his characteristic impetuosity into the pile of passes and other papers 
stacked up by the sergeant-major at his table. To all questions as to 
where he had been and what was the matter with the colonel he replied, 
with more than usual asperity of manner, — the asperity engendered of 
some years of having to answer the host of questions propounded by 
vacant minds at his own busiest hour of the day, — that the colonel 
would tell them all about it himself ; he had no time for a word. The 
evident manner of suppressed excitement, however, was something few 
failed to note ; and every man in the room felt certain that when the 
colonel came there would be a revelation. It was with something bor- 
dering on indignation, therefore, that the assemblage heard the words 
that intimated to them that all might retire. The colonel had come in 
very quietly, received the report of the officer of the day, relieved him, 
and dismissed the new officer of the day with the brief formula, Usual 
orders, sir,” then glanced quickly around the silent circle of grave, 
bearded or boyish faces. His eyes rested for an instant with something 
like shock and trouble upon one face, pale, haggard, with almost blood- 
less lips, and yet full of fierce determination, — a face that haunted him 
long afterwards, it was so full of agony, of suspense, almost of pleading, 
— the face of Captain Rayner. 

Then, dispensing with the customary talk, he quietly spoke the 
disappointing words, — 

I am somewhat late this morning, gentlemen, and several matters 
will occupy my attention : so I will not detain you further.” 

The crowd seemed to find their feet very slowly. There was visible 
disinclination to go. Every man in some inexplicable way appeared 
to know that there was a new mystery hanging over the garrison, and 
that the colonel held the key. Every man felt that Billings had 
given him the right to expect to be told all about it when Ihe colonel 
came. Some looked reproachfully at Billings, as though to remind him 
of their expectations : Stannard, his old stand-by, passed him with a 


144 


THE DESERTER. 


gruff Thought you said the colonel had something to tell us,” and 
went out with an air of injured and defrauded dignity. Eayner arose, 
and seemed to be making preparations to depart with the others, and 
some of the number, connecting him unerringly with the prevailing 
sensation, appeared to hold back and wait for him to precede them and 
so secure to themselves the satisfaction of knowing that, if it was a 
matter connected with Eayner, they ^Miad him along” and nothing 
could take place without their hearing it. These men were very few, 
however ; but Buxton was one of them. Eayner’s eyes were fixed 
upon the colonel and searching for a sign, and it came, — a little motion 
of the hand and a nod of the head that signified Stay.” Then, as 
Buxton and one or two of his stamp still dallied irresolute, the colonel 
turned somewhat sharply to them : AVas there any matter on which 
you wished to see me, gentlemen ?” and, as there was none, they had to 
go. Then Eayner was alone with the colonel ; for Mr. Billings quickly 
arose, and, with a significant glance at his commander, left the room 
and closed the door. 

Mrs. Eayner, gazing from her parlor windows, saw that all the 
officers had come out except one, — her husband, — and with a moan of 
misery she covered her face with her hands and sank upon the' sofa. 
AV^ith cheeks as white as her sister’s, with eyes full of trouble and per- 
plexity, but tearless, Nellie Travers stepped quickly into the room and 
put a trembling white hand upon the other’s shoulder : 

Kate, it is no time for so bitter an estrangement as this. I have 
done simply what our soldier father would have done had he been here. 
I am fully aware of what it must cost me. I knew when I did it that 
you would never again welcome me to your home. Once East again, 
you and I can go our ways ; I won’t burden you longer ; but is it not 
better that you should tell me in what way your husband or you can 
have been injured by what I have done?” 

Mrs. Eayner impatiently shook away the hand. 

I don’t want to talk to you,” was the blunt answer. “ You have 
carried out your threat and — ruined us : that’s all.” 

AVhat can you mean ? Do you want me to think that because 
Mr. Hayne’s innocence may be established your husband was the guilty 
man ? Certainly your manner leads to that inference ; though his does 
not, by any means.” 

I don’t want to talk, I tell you. You’ve had your way, — done 
your work. You’ll see soon enough the hideous web of trouble you’ve 


THE DESERTEB: 


145 


entangled about my husband. Don’t you dare say — don’t you dare 
think” — and now she rose with sudden fury — that he was the — that 
he lost the money ! But that’s what all others will think.” 

If that were true, Kate, there would be this difference between 
his trouble and Mr. Hayne’s : Captain Rayner would have wife, wealth, 
and friends to help him bear the cross ; Mr. Hayne has borne it five 
long years unaided. I pray God the truth has been brought to light.” 

I What fierce reply Mrs. Rayner might have given, who knows? 
I but at that instant a quick step was heard on the piazza, the door opened 
i suddenly, and Captain Rayner entered with a rush. The pallor had 
gone ; a light of eager, half-incredulous joy beamed from his eyes, he 
threw his cap upon the floor, and his wife had risen and tlirown her 
arms about his neck. 

Have they found him ?” was her breathless question. What has 
happened? You look so different.” 

Found him ? Yes ; and he has told everything ?” 

Told— what?” 

Told that he and Gower were the men. They took it all.” 

Clancy! — and Gower! The thieves, do you mean? Is that — 
> is that what he confessed ?” she asked, in wild wonderment, in almost 
stupefied amaze, releasing him from her arms and stepping back, her 
eyes searching his face. 

Nothing else in the world, Kate. I don’t understand it at all. 
I’m all a-tremble yet. It clears Hayne utterly. It at least explains 
how I was mistaken. But what — what could she have meant ?” 

Mrs. Rayner stood like one in a dream, her eyes staring, her lips 
quivering ; and Nellie, with throbbing pulses and clasping hands, looked 
eagerly from husband to wife, as thougli beseeching some explanation. 

What did she mean ? What did she mean ? I say again,” asked 
Rayner, pressing his hand to his forehead and gazing fixedly at his wife. 

A moment longer she stood there, as though a light — a long-hidden 
♦truth — were slowly forcing itself upon her mind. Then, with impulsive 
movement, she hurried through the dining-room, threw open the kitchen 
door, and startled the domestics at their late breakfast. 

Ryan,” she called to the soldier-servant who rose hastily from the 
table, go and tell Mrs. Clancy I want her instantly. Do you under- 
stand ? Instantly !” And Ryan seized his forage-cap and vanished. 

It was perhaps ten minutes before he returned. When he did so it 
was apparent that Mrs. Rayner had been crying copiously, and that 

G 13 


146 


THE DESERTER. 


Miss Travers, too, was much affected. The captain was pacing the 
room with nervous strides in mingled relief and agitation. All looked 
up expectant as the soldier re-entered. He had the air of a man who 
knew he bore tidings of vivid and mysterious interest, but he curbed 
the excitement of his manner until it shone only through his snapping 
eyes, saluted, and reported with professional gravity : 

Mrs. Clancy \s clean gone, sir.’^ 

“ Gone where 

‘^Nobody knows^ sir. She’s just lit out with her trunk and best 
clothes some time last night.” 

Gone to her husband in town, maybe ?” 

No, sir. Clancy’s all right : he was caught last evening, and 
hadn’t time to get more’n half drunk before they lodged him. Loo- 
tenant Hayne got him, sir. They had him afore a justice of the peace 
early this morning ” 

Yes, I know all that. What I want is Mrs. Clancy. What has 
become of her ?” 

“ Faith, I don’t know, sir, but the women in Sudsville they all say 
she’s run away, sir, — taken her money and gone. She’s afraid of 
Clancy’s peaching on her.” 

By heavens! the thing is clearing itself!” exclaimed Bayner to 
his gasping and wild-eyed wife. I must go to the colonel at once 
with his news.” And away he went. 

And then again, as the orderly? retired, and the sisters were left 
alone, Nellie Travers with trembling iips asked the question, — 

Have I done so much harm, after all, Kate ?” 

Oh, Nellie ! Nellie ! forgive me, for I have been nearly mad with 
misery !” was Mrs. Rayner’s answer, as she burst into a fresh paroxysm 
of tears. “ That — that woman has — has told me fearful lies.” 

There was a strange scene that day at Warrener when, towards noon, 
two carriages drove out from town and, entering the east gate, rolled 
over towards the guard-house. The soldiers clustered about the barrack 
porches and stared at the occupants. In the first — a livery hack from 
town — were two sheriff’s officers, while cowering on the back seat, his hat 
pulled down over his eyes, was poor old Clancy, to whom clung faithful 
little Kate. In the rear carriage — Major Waldron’s — were Mr. Hayne, 
the major, and a civilian whom some of the men had no difficulty in 
recognizing as the official charged with the administration of justice 
towards offenders against the peace. Many of the soldiers strolled 


THE DESERTER, 


147 


slowly lip the road, in hopes of hearing all about the arrest, and what 
it meant, from straggling members of the guard. All knew it meant 
something more than a mere break’’ on the part of Clancy ; all felt 
that it had some connection with the long-continued mystery that hung 
about the name of Lieutenant Hayne. Then, too, it was being noised 
abroad that Mrs. Clancy had skipped” and between two suns had fled 
for parts unknown. She could be overhauled by telegraph if she had 
left on either of the night freights or gone down towards Denver by 
the early morning passenger-train ; it would be easy enough to capture 
her if she were “ wanted,” said the garrison ; but what did it. mean 
that Clancy was pursued by officers of the post and brought back 
under charge of officers of the law ? He had had trouble enough, poor 
fellow ! 

The officer of the guard looked wonderingly at the carriages and 
their occupants. He saluted Major Waldron as the latter stepped 
briskly down. 

You will take charge of Clancy, Mr. Graham,” said the major. 

His discharge will be recalled : at least it will not take effect to-cla/. 
You will be interested in knowing that his voluntary confession fully 
establishes Mr. Hayne’s innocence of the charges on which he was 
tried.” 

Mr. Graham’s face turned all manner of colors. He glanced at 
Hayne, who, still seated in the carriage, was as calmly indifferent to 
him as ever ; he was gazing across the wide parade at the windows in 
officers’ row. Little Kate’s sobs as the soldiers were helping her 
father from the carriage suddenly recalled his wandering thoughts. He 
sprang to the ground, stepped quickly to the child, and put his arms 
about her. 

Clancy, tell her to come with us. Mrs. Waldron will take loving 
care of her, and she shall come to see you every day. The guard-house 
is no 'place for her to follow you. Tell her so, man, and she will go 
with us. — Come, Katie, child !” And he bent tenderly over the sob- 
bing little waif. 

Thank ye, sir. I know ye’ll be good to her. Go with the 
lootenant, Kate darlin’ ; go. Shure I’ll be happier then.” 

And, trembling, he bent and kissed her wet cheeks. She threw her 
arms around his neck and clung to him in an agony of grief. Gently 
they strove to disengage her clasping arms, but she shrieked and strug- 
gled, and poor old Clancy broke down. There were sturdy soldiers 


148 


THE DESERTER. 


standing by who turned their heads away to hide the unbidden tears, 
and with a quiver in his kind voice the major interposed : 

Let her stay awhile : it will be better for both. Don’t put him in 
the prison-room, Graham. Keep them by themselves for a while. We 
will come for her by and by.” And then, before them all, he held 
forth his hand and gave Clancy’s a cordial grasp : 

Cheer up, man. You’ve taken the right step at last. You are a 
free man to-day, even if you are a prisoner for the time being. Better 
this a thousand times than what you were.” 

Hayne, too, spoke a few kind words in a low tone, and gave the old 
soldier his hand at parting. Then the guard closed the door, and father 
and daughter were left alone. As the groups around the guard-house 
began to break up and move away, and the officers, re-entering the 
carriages, drove over to head-quarters, a rollicking Irishman called to 
the sergeant of the guard, — 

Does he know the ould woman’s skipped, sargent ? Shure you’d 
better tell him. ’Twill cheer him, like.” 

But when, a few moments after, the news was imparted to Clancy, 
the effect was electric and startling. With one bound and a savage cry 
he sprang to the door. The sergeant threw himself upon him and 
strove to hold him back, but was no match for the frenzied man. Deaf 
to Kate’s entreaties and the sergeant’s commands, he hurled him aside, 
leaped through the door-way, shot like a deer past the lolling guards- 
men on the porch, and, turning sharply, went at the top of his speed 
down the hill towards Sudsville before man could lay hand on him. 
The sentry on Number One cocked his rifle and looked inquiringly at 
the officer of the guard, who came running out. With a wild shriek 
little Kate threw herself upon the sentry, clasping his knees and im- 
ploring him not to shoot. The lieutenant and the sergeant both shouted. 
Never mind ! Don’t fire !” and with others of the guard rushed in 
pursuit. But, old and feeble as he was, poor Clancy kept the lead, 
never swerving, never flagging, until he reached the door-way of his 
abandoned cot ; this he burst in, threw himself upon his knees by the 
bedside, and dragged to light a little wooden chest that stood by an 
open trap in the floor. One look sufficed : the mere fact that the trap 
was open and the box exposed was enough. With a wild cry of rage, 
despair, and baffled hatred, he clinched his hands above his head, rose to 
his full height, and with a curse upon his white lips, with glaring eyes 
and gasping breath, turned upon his pursuers as they came running 


THE DESERTER. 


149 


in, and hurled his fists at the foremost. Let me follow her, I say ! 
She’s gone with it all, — his money ! Let me go !” he shrieked ; and 
then his eyes turned stony, a gasp, a clutch at his throat, and, plunging 
headlong, he fell upon his face at their feet. 

Poor little Kate ! The old man was, indeed, free at last. 

XVIII. 

There had been a scene of somewhat dramatic nature at the colonel’s 
office but a short time before, and one that had fewer witnesses. Agi- 
tated, nervous, and eventually astonished as Captain Rayner had been 
when the colonel had revealed to him the nature of Clancy’s confession, 
he was far more excited and tremulous when he returned a second time. 
The commanding officer had been sitting deep in thought. It was but 
natural that a man should show great emotion on learning that the evi- 
dence he had given, which had condemned a brother officer to years of 
solitary punishment, was now disproved. It was to be expected that 
Rayner should be tremulous and excited. He had been looking worse 
and worse for a long time past ; and now that it was established that 
he must have been mistaken in what he thought he saw and heard at 
Battle Butte, it was to be expected that he should show the utmost con- 
sternation and an immediate desire to make amends. He had shown 
great emotion ; he was white and rigid as the colonel told him Clancy 
had made a full confession ; but the expression on his face when in- 
formed that the man had admitted that he and Sergeant Gower were 
the only ones guilty of the crime — that Clancy and Gower divided the 
guilt as they had the money — was a puzzle to the colonel. Captain 
Rayner seemed daft : it was a look of wild relief, half unbelief, half 
delight, that shot across his haggard features. It was evident that he 
had not heard at all what he expected. This was what puzzled the 
colonel. He had been pondering over it ever since the captain’s hurried 
departure to tell his wife.” 

We — we had expected — made all preparations to take this afler- 
noon’s train for the East,” he stammered. We are all torn up, all 
ready to start, and the ladies ought to go ; but I cannot feel like going 
in the face of this.” 

There is no reason why you should not go, captain. I am told 
Mrs. Rayner should leave at once. If need be, you can return from 
Chicago. Everything will be attended to properly. Of course you 


150 


THE DESERTER. 


will know wliat to do towards Mr. Hayne. Indeed, I think it might 
be best for you to go.’^ 

But Kayner seemed hardly listening ; and the colonel was not a 
man to throw his words away. 

You might see Mrs. Bayner at once, and return by and by,” he 
said ; and Kayner gladly escaped, and went home with the wonderful 
news he had to tell his wife. 

And now a second time he was back, and was urging upon the 
commanding officer the necessity of telegraphing and capturing Mrs. 
Clancy. In plain words he told the colonel he believed that she had 
escaped with the greater part of the money. The colonel smiled : 

‘^That was attended to early this morning, captain. Hayne and 
the major asked that she be secured, and the moment we found her 
fled it confirmed their suspicions, and Billings sent despatches in every 
direction. She canT get away ! She was his temptress, and I mean to 
make her share all the punishment.” 

Colonel,” exclaimed Rayner, while beads of sweat stood out on 
his forehead, she is worse, — a thousand times worse ! The woman 
is a fiend. She is the devil in petticoats— and ingenuity. My God ! 
sir, I have been in torment for weeks past, — my poor wife and I. I 
have been criminally, cowardly weak ; but I did not know what to do, 
— where to turn, — how to take it, — how to meet it. Let me tell you.” 
And now great tears were standing in his eyes and beginning to trickle 
down his cheeks. He dashed them away. His lips were quivering, 
and he strode nervously up and down the matted floor. When you 
refused to let Clancy re-enlist in the — th, two years after Battle Butte, 
he came to me and told me a story. He, too, had declared, as I did, 
that he had seen the money-packages in Hayne’s hands ; and he said 
the real reason he was kicked out of the — th was because the officers 
and men took sides with Hayne and thought he had sworn his reputa- 
tion away. He begged me not to ‘ go back on him’ as his own regi- 
ment had, and I thought he was being persecuted because he told the 
truth. God knows I fully believed Hayne guilty for more than three 
years, — it is only within the last year or so I began to have doubts ; 
and so I took Clancy into B Company and soon made Mrs. Clancy a 
laundress. But she made trouble for us all, and there was something 
uncanny about them. She kept throwing out mysterious hints I couhl 
not understand when rumors of them reached me ; and at last came 
^he fire that burned them out, and then the stories of what Clancy 


THE DESERTER. 


151 


had said in his delirium • and then she came to my wife and told her a 
yarn that — she swore to its truth, and nearly drove Mrs. Rayner wild 
with anxiety. She swore that when Clancy got to drinking he 
imagined he had seen me take that money from Captain Hull’s saddle- 
bags and replace the sealed package : she said he was ready to swear 
that he and Gower — the deserter — and two of our men, honorably 
discharged now and living on ranches down in Nebraska, could all 
swear — would all swear — to the same thing, — that I was the thief. 
^ Sure you know it couldn’t be so, ma’am ; and yet he wants to go 
and tell Mr. Hayne,’ she would say : ^ there’s the four of ’em would 
swear to it, though Gower’s evidence would be no good ; but the two 
men could hurt the captain.’ Her ingenuity was devilish ; for one of 
the men I had severely punished once in the Black Hills, and both 
hated me and had sworn they would get even with me yet. God help 
me, colonel ! seeing every day the growing conviction tliat Hayne was 
innocent, that somebody else must be guilty, I thought, what if this 
man should^ in drunken gratitude to Hayne for saving his life, go to 
him and tell him this story, then back it up before the officials and 
call in these two others? I was weak, but it appalled me. I deter- 
mined to get him out of the way of such a possibility. I got his dis- 
charge, and meantime strove to prevent his drinking or going near 
Hayne. She knew the real story he would tell. This was her devilish 
plan to keep me on watch against him. I never dreamed the real 
truth. She swore to me that three hundred dollars was all the money 
they had. I believed that when he confessed it would be what she 
declared. I never dreamed that Clancy and his confederate were the 
thieves : I never believed the money was taken until after Hayne 
received it. I saw how Hayne’s guilt was believed in even in the face 
of contradictory evidence before the court. What would be the ten- 
dency if three men together were to swear against me, now that every- 
body thought him wronged ? I know very well what you will think 
of my cowardice. I know you and your officers will say I should have 
given him every chance, — should have courted investigation ; and I 
meant to do so, but first I wanted to hear from those discharged men in 
Nebraska. The whole scheme would have been exploded two months 
ago had I not been a coward; but night after night something kept 
whispering to me, ^ You have wrecked and ruined a friendless young 
soldier’s life. You shall be brought as low.’ ” 

The colonel was, as he afterwards remarked, hardly equal to the 


152 


THE DESERTER, 


occasion. He had as much contempt for moral weakness in a soldier 
as he had for physical cowardice ; but Rayner’s almost abject recital of 
his months of misery really left him nothing to say. Had the captain 
sought to defend or justify any detail of his conduct, he would have 
pounced on him like a panther. Twice the adjutant, sitting an absorbed 
and silent listener, thought the chief on the verge of an outbreak ; but 
it never came. For some minutes after Rayner ceased the colonel sat 
steadily regarding him. At last he spoke : 

“ You have been so frank in your statement, captain, that I feel you 
fully appreciate how such deplorable weakness must be regarded in an 
officer. It is unnecessary for me to speak of that. The full partic- 
ulars of Clancy’s confession are not yet with me. Major Waldron has 
it all in writing, and ^Ir. Billings has merely told me the general 
features. Of course you shall have a copy of it in good time. As you 
go East to-day and have your wife and household to think for, it may 
be as well that you do not attempt to see Mr. Hayne before starting. 
And this matter will not be discussed.” 

And so it happened that when the Rayners drove to the station that 
bright afternoon, and a throng of ladies and officers gathered to see 
tliem off, some of the youngsters going with them into town to await 
the coming of the train, Nellie Travers had been surrounded by chat- 
tering friends of both sexes, constantly occupied, and yet constantly 
looking for the face of one who came not. For an hour before thveir 
departure every tongue in garrison that wagged at all — and few there 
were that wagged not — was discoursing on the exciting events of the 
morning, — Hayne’s emancipation from the last vestige of suspicion, 
Clancy’s capture, confession, and tragic death, Mrs. Clancy’s flight 
and probable future. At Rayner’s, people spoke of these things very 
guardedly, because every one saw that the captain was moved to the 
depths of his nature. He was solemnity itself, and Mrs. Rayner 
watched him with deep anxiety, fearful that he might be exposed to 
some thoughtless or malicious questioning. Her surveillance was need- 
less, however : even Ross made no allusion to the events of the morn- 
ing, though he communicated to his fellows in the subsequent confi- 
dences of the club-room that Midas looked as though he’d been pulled 
through a series of knot-holes. Looks more’s though he were going 
to his own funeral than on leave,” he added. 

As for Hayne, he had been closeted with the colonel and Major 
Waldron for some time after his return, — a conference that was broken 


THE DESERTER. 


153 


In upon by the startling news of Clancy’s death. Then he had joined 
liis friend the doctor at the hospital, and was still there, striving to 
comfort little Kate, who could not be induced to leave her father’s 
rapidly stiifening form, when Mrs. Waldron re-entered the room 
Drawing the child to her side and folding her motherly arms about her, 
she looked up in Hayne’s pale face : 

“ They are going in five minutes. Don’t you mean to see her ?” 

Not there, — not under his roof or in that crowd. I will go to 
the station.” 

I must run over and say good-by in a moment, — when the car- 
riage goes around. Shall — shall I say you will come ?” 

There was a light in his blue eyes she was just beginning to notice 
now as she studied his face. A smile flickered one instant about the 
corners of his mouth, and then he held out his hand : 

‘^She knows by this time, Mrs. Waldron.” 

An hour later Mrs. Rayner was standing on the platform at the 
station, Ross and others of her satellites hanging about her ; Captain 
Rayner was talking in subdued tones with one or two of the senior 
officers ; Miss Travers, looking feverishly pretty, was chatting busily 
with Royce and Foster, though a close observer could have noted that 
her dark eyes often sought the westward prairie over which wound the 
road to the distant post. It was nearly train-time, and three or four 
horsemen could be seen at various distances, while, far out towards the 
fort, long skirmish-lines and fluttering guidons were sweeping over the 
slopes in mimic war-array. 

I have missed all this,” she said, pointing to the scene ; and I 
do love it so that it seems hard to go just as all the real soldier life is 
beginning.” 

Goodness knows you’ve had offers enough to keep you liere,” 
said Foster, with not the blithest laugh in the world. Any girl who 
will go East and marry a ‘ cit’ and leave six or seven penniless subs 
sighing behind her, I have my opinion of : she’s eminently level- 
headed,” he added, with rueful and unexpected candor. 

“ I have hopes of Miss Travers yet,” boomed Royce, in his pon 
derous basso, — not personal hopes, Foster ; you needn’t feel for your 
pistol, — but I believe that her heart is with the army, like the soldier’ 
daughter she is.” And, audacious as was the speech and deserving of 
instant rebuke, Mr. Royce was startled to see her reddening vividly 

G* 


154 


THE DESERTER. 


He would have plunged into hasty apology, but Foster plucked his 
sleeve ; 

Look who’s coming, you galoot ! She hasn’t heard a word either 
of us has said.” 

And though Nellie Travers, noting the sudden silence, burst into 
an immediate and utterly irrelevant lament over the loss of the Maltese 
kitten, — which had not been seen all that day and was not to be found 
when they came away, — it was useless. The effort was gallant, but the 
llame in her cheeks betrayed her as, throwing his reins to the orderly 
who followed him, Mr. Hayne dismounted at the platform and came 
directly towards her. To Mrs. Kayner’s unspeakable dismay, he walked 
up to the trio, bowed low over the little gloved hand that was extended 
in answer to the proffer of his own, and next she saw that Foyce and 
Foster had, as though by tacit consent, fallen back, and, coram 'publwOy 
Mr. Hayne was sole claimant of the regards of her baby sister. There 
was but one comfort in the situation : the train was in sight. Forget- 
ful, reckless for the moment, of what was going on around her, she 
stood gazing at the pair. No woman could fail to read the story ; no 
woman could see his face, his eyes, his whole attitude and expression, 
and not read therein that old, old story that grows sweeter with every 
century of its life. That he should be inspir^ with sudden, vehement 
love for her exquisite Nell was something she could readily understand; 
but what — what meant her downcast eyes, the flutter of color on her 
soil and rounded cheek, the shy uplifting of the fringed lids from time 
to time as though in response to eager question or appeal ? Heavens ! 
would that train nevet'' come ? The whistle was sounding in the distance, 
but it would take ages to drag those heavy Pullmans up the grade from 
the bridge where they had yet to stop. She could almost have darted 
forward, seized her sister by the wrist, and whispered again the baleful 
reminder that of late had had no mention between them, — Thou art 
another’s but in her distress her weak blue eyes sought her husband’s 
face. He saw it all, and shook his head. Then there was nothing to 
be done. 

As the train came rumbling finally into the station, she saw him 
once more clasp her sister’s hand ; then, with one long look into the 
sweet face that was hidden from her jealous eyes, he raised his forage- 
cap and stepped quickly back to where his hors(‘, was held. Her 
husband hastened to her side : 


THE DESERTER. 


155 


Kate, I must speak to him. I don’t care how he may take it ; I 
cannot go without it.” 

They all watched the tall captain as he strode across the platform. 
Every man in uniform seemed to know instinctively that Kayner at last 
was seeking to make open reparation for the bitter wrong he had done. 
One or two strove to begin a general chat and alfect an interest in some- 
thing else, for Mrs. Kayner’s benefit, but she, with trembling lips, stood 
gazing after her husband and seemed to beg for silence. Then all 
abandoned other occupation, and every man stood still and watched 
them. Hayne had quickly swung into saddle, and had turned for one 
more look, when he saw his captain with ashen face striding towards 
him, and heard him call his name. 

‘‘By Jove !” muttered Ross, “what command that fellow has over 
himself !” for, scrupulously observant of military etiquette, Mr. Hayne 
on being addressed by his superior officer had instantly dismounted, and 
now stood silently facing him. Even at the distance, there were some 
who thought they could see his features twitching ; but his blue eyes 
were calm and steady, — far clearer than they had been but a moment 
agone when gazing good-by into the sweet face they worshipped. None 
could hear what passed between them. The talk was very brief ; but 
Ross almost gasped with amaze, other officers looked at one another in 
utter astonishment, and Mrs. Rayner fairly sobbed with excitement and 
emotion, when Mr. Hayne was seen to hold forth his hand, and Rayner, 
grasping it eagerly in both his own, shook it once, then strode hastily 
away to^vards the rear of the train. His eyes were filled with tears he 
could not repress and could not bear to show. 

That evening, as the train wound steadily eastward into the shadows 
of the night, and they looked out in farewell upon the slopes they had 
last seen when a wintry gale swept fiercely over the frozen surface and 
the shallow ravines were streaked with snow, Kate Rayner, after a long 
talk with her husband, and abandoning her boy to the sole guardian- 
ship of his nurse, settled herself by Nellie’s side, and Nellie knew that 
she either sought confidences or had them to impart. Something of 
the old, quizzical look was playing about the corner of her pretty mouth 
as her elder sister, with feminine indirectness, began her verbal skir- 
mishing with the subject. It was some time before the question was 
reached which led to her real objective : 

“ Did he — did Mr. Hayne tell you much about Clancy ?” 

“ Not much. There was no time.” 


156 


THE DESERTER. 


You had fully ten minutes, I’m sure. It seemed even longer.” 

Four by the clock, Kate.” 

Well, four, then. He must have had something of greater in- 
terest.” 

No answer. Cheeks reddening, though. 

Didn’t he ?” — persistently. 

I will tell you what he told me of Clancy, Kate. Mrs. Clancy 
had utterly deceived you as to what he had to tell, had she not ?” 

Utterly.” And now it was Mrs. Kayner’s turn to color painfully. 

Mr. Hayne tells me that Clancy’s confession really explained how 
Captain Kayner was mistaken. It was not so much the captain’s fault, 
after all.” 

So Mr. Hayne told him. You knew they — you saw Mr. Hayne 
offer him his hand, didn’t you ?” 

I did not see : I knew he would.” More vivid color, and much 
hesitation now. 

Knew he would ! Why, Nellie, wFat do you mean ? He didn’t 
tell you that he was to see Captain Kayner. He couldn’t have known.” 

But I knew, Kate ; and I told him how the captain had suffered.” 

But how could you know that he would shake hands with him ?” 

He promised me.” 

The silence was unbroken for a moment. Nellie Travers could 
hear the beating of her own heart as she nestled closer to her sister and 
stole a hand into hers. Mrs. Kayner was trying hard to be dutiful, 
stern, unbending, to keep her faith with the distant lover in the East, 
whether Nell was true or no ; but she had been so humbled, so changed, 
so shaken, by the events of the past few weeks, that she felt all her old 
spirit of guardianship ebbing away. Must I give you up, Nell ? and 
must he, too? — Mr. Van Antwerp?” 

“ He has not answered my last letter, Kate. It is nearly a week 
since I have heard from him.” 

What did you write, Nellie ?” 

“ What I had done twice before, — that he ought to release me.” 

And — is Clancy’s the only confession you have heard to-day ?” 

^^The only one.” A pause: then, I know what you moan, 
Kate ; but he is not the man to — to offer his love to a girl he knows is 
pledged to another.” 

But if you were free, Nellie ? Tell me.” 

I have no right to say, Kate ; but” — and two big tears were well- 


THE DESERTER. 


157 


ing up into her brave eyes, as she clasped her hands and stretched them 
yearningly before her — shall I tell you what I think a girl would 
say if she were free and had won his love?^’ 

What, Nellie 

She would say, ^ Ay.’ No woman with a heart could leave a man 
who has borne so much and come through it all so bravely.” 

Poor ^Irs. Rayner ! Humbled and chastened as she was, what refuge 
had she but tears, and then — prayer ? 

XIX. 

Within the week succeeding the departure of the Rayners and Miss 
Travers, Lieutenant Hayne’s brother-in-law and his remarkably at- 
tractive sister were with him in garrison and helping him fit up the 
new quarters which the colonel had rather insisted on his moving into 
and occupying, even though two unmarried subalterns had to move 
out and make way for him. This they seemed rather delighted to do. 
There was a prevailing sentiment at Warrener that nothing w^as too 
good for Hayne nowadays ; and he took all this adulation so quietly 
and modestly that there was difficulty in telling just how it affected 
him. Towards those who had known him well in the days of his early 
service he still maintained a dignity and reserve of manner that kept 
them at some distance. To others, especially to the youngsters in the 
— th as well as to those in the Riflers, he unbent entirely, and was 
frank, unaffected, and warm-hearted. He seemed to bask in the sun- 
shine of the respect and consideration accorded him on every side. 
Yet no one could say he seemed happy. Courteous, grave far beyond 
his years, silent and thoughtful, he impressed them all as a man who 
had suffered too much ever again to be light-hearted. Then it was 
more than believed he had fallen deeply in love with Nellie Travers ; 
and that explained the rarity and sadness of his smile. To the women 
he was a centre of intense and romantic interest. Mrs. Waldron was 
an object of jealousy because of the priority of her claims to his re- 
gard. Mrs. Hurley — the sweet sister who so strongly resembled him 

was the recipient of universal attention from both sexes. Hayne 

and the Hurleys, indeed, would have been invited to several places an 
evening could they have accepted. And yet, with it all, Mr. Hayne 
seemed at times greatly preoccupied. He had a great deal to think of. 

To beg-in with, the widow Clancy had been captured in one of the 
^ 14 


158 


THE DESERTER, 


raining towns, where she had sought refuge, and brought back by the 
civil authorities, nearly three thousand dollars in greenbacks having 
been found in her possession. She had fought like a fury and proved 
too much for the sheritf ’s posse when first arrested, and not until three 
days after her incarceration was the entire amount brought to light. 
There was no question what ought to be done with it. Clancy’s con- 
fession established the fact that almost the entire amount was stolen 
from Captain Hull nearly six years before, the night previous to his 
tragic death at Battle Butte. Mrs. Clancy at first had furiously de- 
clared it all a lie; but Waldron’s and Billings’s precaution in having 
Clancy’s entire story taken down by a notary public and sworn to 
before him eventually broke her down. She made her miserable, 
whining admissions to the sheriff’s officers in town, — the colonel would 
not have her on the post even as a prisoner, — and there she was still 
held, awaiting further disclosures, while little Kate was lovingly cared 
for at Mrs. Waldron’s. Poor old Clancy was buried and on the way 
to be forgotten. 

AVhat proved the hardest problem for the garrison to solve was the 
fact that, while Mr. Hayne kept several of his old associates at a dis- 
tance, he had openly offered his hand to Bayner. This was something 
the Kiflers could not account for. The intensity of his feeling at the time 
of the court-martial none could forget : the vehemence of his denuncia- 
tion of the captain was still fresh in the memory of those who heard it. 
Then there were all those years in which Bayner had continued to crowd 
him to the wall ; and finally there was the almost tragic episode of 
Buxton’s midnight visitation, in which Bayner, willingly or not, had 
been in attendance. Was it not odd that in the face of all these con- 
siderations the first man to whom Mr. Hayne should have offered his 
hand was Captain Bayner ? Odd indeed ! But then only one or two 
were made acquainted with the full particulars of Clancy’s con- 
fession, and none had heard Nellie Travers’s request. Touched as he 
was by the sight of Bayner’s haggard and trouble-worn face, relieved 
as he was by Clancy’s revelation of the web that had been woven to 
cover the tracks of the thieves and ensnare the feet of the pursuers, 
Hayne could not have found it possible to offer his hand ; but when 
he bent over the tiny glove and looked into her soft and brimming 
eyes at the moment of their parting he could not say no to the one 
tiling she asked of him : it was that if Bayner came to say, Forgi* e 
me,” befora they left, he would not repel him. 


THE DESERTER. 


159 


There was one man in garrison whom Hayne cut entirely, and foi 
whom no one felt the faintest sympathy; and that, of course, was 
Buxton. With Rayner gone, he hardly had an associate, though the 
esprit de corps of the — th prompted the cavalry officers to be civil to 
him when he appeared at the billiard-room. As Mr. Hurley was fond 
of the game, an element of awkwardness was manifest the first time 
the young officers appeared with their engineer friend. Hayne had not 
set foot in such a place for five years, and quietly declined all invita- 
tions to take a cue again. It was remembered of him that he played 
the prettiest game of French caroms of all the officers at the station 
when he joined the Riflers as a boy. Hurley could only stay a very 
short time, and the subalterns were doing their best to make it lively 
for him. Some, indeed, showed strong inclination to devote themselves 
to Mrs. Hurley ; but she was too busy with her brother’s household 
affairs to detect their projects. Hurley had turned very red and 
glared at Buxton the first time the two met at the club-room, but the 
bulky captain speedily found cover under which to retire, and never 
again showed himself in general society until the engineer with the 
scientific attainments as a boxer as well as road-builder was safely out 
of the post. 

And yet there came a day very soon when Mr. Hayne wished that 
he could go to Buxton’s quarters. He had in no wise changed his 
opinion of the man himself, but the Rayners had not been gone a fort- 
night before Mrs. Buxton began to tell the ladies of the charming letters 
she was receiving from Mrs. Rayner, — all about their travels. There 
were many things he longed to know, yet could not ask. 

There came to him a long and sorrowful letter from the captain 
himself, but, beyond a few matters relating to the company and the 
transfer- of its property, it was all given up to a recapitulation of the 
troubles of the past few years and to renewed expressions of his deep 
regret. Of the ladies he made but casual mention. They were jour- 
neying down the Mississippi on one of its big steamers when he wrote, 
and Mrs. Rayner was able to enjoy the novelties of the trip, and was 
getting better, but still required careful nursing. Miss Travers was 
devoted to her. They would go to New Orleans, then possibly by sea 
around to New York, arriving there about the 5th of June ; that, how- 
ever, was undecided. He closed by asking Hayne to remind Major 
Waldron that his copy of Clancy’s confession had not yet reached him, 
and he was anxious to see it in full. 


160 


THE DESERTER. 


The one thing lacking to complete the chain is Gower/’ said the 
major, as he looked up over his spectacles. “ It would be difficult to 
tell what became of him. We get tidings of most of the deserters who 
were as prominent among the men as he appears to have been ; but I 
have made inquiry, and so has the colonel, and not a word has ever been 
heard of him since the night he appeared before Mrs. Clancy and handed 
over the money to her. He was a strange character, from all accounts, 
and must have had some conscience, after all. Do you remember him 
at all, Hayne?” 

remember him well. We made the march from the Big Horn 
over to Battle Butte together, and he was a soldier one could not help 
remarking. Of course I never had anything to say to him ; but we 
heard he was an expert gambler when the troop was over there at 
Miners’ Delight.” 

^^Of course his testimony isn’t necessary. Clancy and his wife be- 
tween them have cleared you, after burying you alive five years. But 
nothing but his story could explain his singular conduct, — planning the 
wiiole robbery, executing it with all the skill of a professional jail-Turd, 
deserting and covering several hundred miles with his plunder, then 
daring to go to the old fort, find Mrs. Clancy, and surrender every 
cent, the moment he heard of your trial. What a fiend that woman 
was ! No wonder she drove Clancy to drink !” 

AVill you send copies of her admission with Clancy’s affidavits ?” 
asked Hayne. 

Here they are in full,” answered the major. The colonel talks 
of having them printed and strewn broadcast as warnings against ^ snap 
judgment’ and too confident testimony in future.” 

Divested of the legal encumbrances with which such documents are 
usually weighted, Clancy’s story ran substantially as follows : 

I was sergeant in K troop, and Gower was in F. We had been 
stationed together six months or so when ordered out on the Indian 
campaign that summer. I was dead-broke. All my money was gone, 
and my wife kept bothering me for more. I owed a lot of money 
around head-quarters, too, and Gower knew it, and sometimes asked 
me what I was going to do when we got back from the campaign. We 
were not good friends, him and I. There was money dealings between us, 
and then there was talk about Mrs. Clancy fancying him too much. The 
paymaster came up with a strong escort and paid oft* the boys late in 
October, just as the expedition was breaking up and going for home, 


THE DESERTER 


161 


and all the officers and men got four months’ pay. There was Lieu- 
tenant Crane and twenty men of F troop out on a scout, but the lieu- 
tenant had left his pay-rolls with Captain Hull, and the men had all 
signed before they started, and so the captain he drew it all for them 
and put each man’s money in an envelope marked with his name, and 
the lieutenant’s too, and then crowded it all into some bigger envelopes. 
I was there where I could see it all, and Gower was watching him close. 
‘ It’s a big pile the captain’s got,’ says he. ‘ I’d like to be a road-agent 
and nab him.’ When I told him it couldn’t be over eleven hundred 
dollars, he says, ‘ That’s only part. He has his own pay, and six hun- 
dred dollars company fund, and a wad of greenbacks he’s been carryin’ 
around all summer. It’s nigh on to four thousand dollars he’s got in his 
saddle-bags this day.’ 

And that night, instead of Lieutenant Crane’s coming back, he 
sent word he had found the trail of a big band of Indians, and the 
whole crowd went in pursuit. There was four companies of infantry, 
under Captain Eayner, and F and K troops, — what was left of them, — 
that were ordered to stay by the wagons and bring them safely down ; 
and we started with them over towards Battle Butte, keeping south of 
the way the regiment had gone to follow Mr. Crane. And the very 
next day Captain Eayner got orders to bring his battalion to the river 
and get on the boat, while the wagons kept on down the bank with us 
to guard them. And Mr. Hayne was acting quartermaster, and he 
stayed with us ; and him and Captain Hull was together a good deal. 
There was some trouble, we heard, because Captain Eayner thought 
another officer should have been made quartermaster and Mr. Hayne 
should have stayed with* his company, and they had some words ; but 
Captain Hull gave Mr. Hayne a horse and seemed to keep him with 
him ; and that night, in sight of Battle Butte, the steamboat was out of 
sight ahead when we went into camp, and I was sergeant of the guard 
and had my fire near the captain’s tent, and twice in the evening 
Gower came to me and said now was the time to lay hands on the 
money and skip. At last he says to me, ‘ You are flat-broke, and 
they’ll all be down on you when you get back to the post. No man in 
America wants five hundred dollars more than you do. I’ll give you 
five hundred in one hour from now if you’ll get the captain out of 
ids tent for half an hour.’ Almost everybody was asleep then ; the 
captain was, and so was Mr. Hayne, and he went on to tell me how he 
could do it. He’d been watching the captain. It made such a big 

14 * 


162 


THE DESERTEh. 


bundle, did the money, in all the separate envelopes that he had done it 
all up different, — made a memorandum of the amount due each man, 
and packed the greenbacks all together in one solid pile, — his own 
money, the lieutenant’s, and the men’s, — done it up in paper and tied it 
firmly and put big blotches of green sealing-wax on it and sealed them 
with the seal on his watch-chain. Says Gower, ‘ You get the captain 
out, as I tell you, and I’ll slip right in, get the money, stuff some other 
jmper with a few ones and twos in the package ; his seal, his watch, and 
everything is there in the saddle-bags under his head, and I can reseal 
and replace it in five minutes, and he’ll never suspect the loss until the 
command all gets together again next week. By that time I’ll be three 
hundred miles away. Everybody will say ’twas Gower that robbed 
him, and you with your five hundred will never be suspected.’ I asked 
him how could he expect the captain to go and leave so much money 
in his bags with no one to guard it ; and he said he’d bet on it if I did 
it right. The captain had had no luck tracking Indians that summer, 
and the regiment was laughing at him. He knew they were scatter- 
ing every which way now, and was eager to strike them. All I had to 
do was to creep in excited-like, wake him up sudden, and tell him I was 
sure I had heard an Indian drum and their scalp-dance song out beyond 
the pickets, — that they were over towards Battle Butte, and he could 
hear them if he would come out on the river-bank. ‘ He’d go quick,’ 
says Gower, ^ and think of nothing.’ 

And — r wouldn’t believe it, but he did. He sprang up and went 
right out with me, just flinging his overcoat round him ; and he never 
seemed to want to come in. The wind was blowing soft-like from the 
southeast, and he stood there straining his ears trying to hear the sounds 
I told him of ; but at last he gave it up, and we went back to camp, and 
he- took his lantern and looked in his saddle-bags, and I shook for fear; 
but he seemed to find everything all right, and in the next ten minutes 
he was asleep, and Gower came and whispered to me, and I went with 
him, and he gav^e me five hundred dollars, in twenties. ‘Now you’re 
bound,’ says he ; ‘ keep the sentries off while I get my horse.’ And 
that’s the last I ever saw of him. Then a strange thing happened. 
’Twas hardly daylight when a courier came galloping up, and I called 
the ca])tain, and he read the despatch, and says he, ‘ By heaven, Clancy, 
) on were right after all. There are Indians over there. Why didn’t I 
trust your ears? Call up the whole command. The Riflers have treed 
them at Battle Butte, and Captain Rayner has gone with his battalion. 


THE DESERTER. 


163 


We are to escort the wagons to where the boat lies beyond the bend, and 
then push over with all the horsemen we can take/ It was after day- 
light w’^hen we got started, but we almost ran the wagons ’cross country 
to the boat, and there Captain Hull took F troop and what there was 
of his own, leaving only ten men back with the wagons ; and not till 
then was Gower missed ; but all were in such a hurry to get to the 
Indians that no one paid attention. Mr. Hayne he begged the captain 
to let him go too : so the train was left with the wagon-master and the 
captain of the boat, and away we went. You know all about the fight, 
and how ’twas Mr. Hayne the captain called to and gave his watch and 
the two packages of money when he was ordered to charge. I was right 
by his side ; and I swore — God forgive me ! — that through the crack 
and tear in the paper I could see the layers of greenbacks, when I knew 
’twas only some ones and twos Gower had slipped in to make it look 
right ; and Captain Rayner stood there and saw the packet, too, and 
Sergeant Walshe and Bugler AVhite ; but them two were killed with 
him : so that ’twas only Captain Rayner and I was left as witnesses, 
and never till we got to Laramie after the campaign did the trouble 
come. I never dreamed of anything ever coming of it but that every 
one would say Gower stole the money and deserted ; but when the 
captain turned the packages over to Mr. Hayne, and then got killed, 
and Mr. Hayne carried the packages, with the watch, seal, saddle-bags, 
and all, in to Cheyenne, and never opened them till he got there, — two 
weeks after, when we were all scattered, — then they turned on him, his 
own officers did, and said he stole it and gambled or sent it away in 
Cheyenne. 

I had lost much of my money then, and Mrs. Clancy got the 
rest, and it made me crazy to think of that poor young gentleman 
accused of it all ; but I was in for it, and knew it meant prison for 
years for me, and perhaps they couldn’t prove it on him. I got to 
drinking then, and told Captain Rayner that the — th was down on me 
for swearing away the young officer’s character ; and then he took me to 
Company B when the colonel wouldn’t have me any more in the — th ; 
and one night when Mrs. Clancy had been raising my hair and I wanted 
money to drink and she’d give me none, little Kate told me her mother 
had lots of money in a box, and that Sergeant Gower had come and 
given it to her while they were getting settled in the new post after the 
Battle Butte campaign, and he had made her promise to give it to me 
t he moment I got back, — that somebody was in trouble, and that I must 


164 


THE DESERTER, 


save him ; and I believed Kate, and charged Mrs. Clancy with it, and 
she beat me and Kate, and swore it was all a lie ; and I never could 
get the money. And at last came the fire; and it was the lieutenant 
that saved my life and Kate’s, and brought back to her all that pile of 
money through the flames. It broke my heart then, and I vowed I’d go 
and tell him the truth ; but they wouldn’t let me. She told me the 
captain said he would kill me if I blabbed, and she would kill Kate. 
I didn’t dare, until they told me my discharge had come ; and then I 
was glad when the lieutenant and the major caught me in town. When 
they promised to take care of little Kate I didn’t care what happened 
to me. The money Mrs. Clancy has — except perhaps two hundred 
dollars — all belongs to Lieutenant Hayne, since lie paid oft‘ every cent 
that was stolen from Captain Hull.” 

Supplemented by Mrs. Clancy’s rueful and incoherent admissions, 
Clancy’s story did its work. Mrs. Clancy could not long persist in her 
various denials after her husband’s confession was brought to her ears, 
and she was totally unable to account satisfactorily for the possession 
of so much money. Little Kate had been too young to grasp the full 
meaning of what Gower said to her mother in that hurried interview ; 
but her reiterated statements that he came late at night, before the regi- 
ment got home, and knocked at the door until he waked them up, and 
her mother cried when he came in, he looked so different, and had 
spectacles, and a patch on his cheek, and ranch clothes, and he only 
stayed a little while, and told her mother he must go back to the moun- 
tains, the police were on his track, — she knew now he spoke of having 
deserted, — and he gave her mother lots of money, for she opened and 
counted it afterwards and told her it must all go to papa to get some 
one out of trouble, — all were so clear and circumstantial that at last 
the hardened woman began to break down and make reluctant ad- 
missions. When an astute sheriff’s officer finally told her that he knew 
where he could lay hands on Sergeant Gower, she surrendered utterly. 
So long as he was out of the way, — could not be found, — she held out ; 
but the prospect of dragging into prison with her the man who had 
spurned her in years gone by and was proof against her fascinations 
was too alluring. She told all she could at his expense. He had 
ridden eastward after his desertion, and, making his way down the Mis- 
souri, had stopped at Yankton and gone thence to Kansas City, spend- 
ing much of his money. He had reached Denver with the rest, and 
there — she knew not how — had made or received more, when he heard 


THE DESERTER 


165 


of the fact that Captain Hull had turned over his property to Lieu- 
tenant Hayne just before he was killed, and that the lieutenant was now 
to be tried for failing to account for it. He brought her enough to 
cover all he had taken, but — here she lied — strove to persuade her to go 
to San Francisco with him. She promised to think of it if he would 
leave the money, — which he did, swearing he would come for her and 
it. That was why she dared not tell Mike when he got home. He 
was so jealous of her. 

To this part of her statement Mrs. Clancy stoutly adhered; but 
the officers believed Kate. 

One other thing she told. Kate had declared he wore a heavy 
patch on his right cheek and temjde. Yes, Mrs. Clancy remembered 
it. Some scoundrels had sought to rob him in Denver. He had to 
fight for life and money both, and his share of the honors of the fray 
was a deep and clean cut extending across the cheek-bone and up above 
the right ear. 

As these family revelations were told throughout the garrison and 
comment of every kind was made thereon, there is reason for tlie be- 
lief that Mrs. Buxton found no difficulty in filling her letters with 
particulars of deep interest to her readers, who by this time had carried 
out the programme indicated by Captain Rayner. Mid-J une had come ; 
tlie ladies, apparently benefited by the sea- voyage, had landed in New 
York and were speedily driven to their old quarters at the Westminster ; 
and while the captain went to head-quarters of the department to re- 
port his arrival on leave and get his letters, a card was sent up to Miss 
Travers which she read with cheeks that slightly paled : 

He is here, Kate.” 

Nellie, you — you won’t throw him over, after all he has done and 
borne for you ?” 

I shall keep my promise,” was the answer. 


XX. 

^^And so she’s really going to marry Mr. Yan Antwerp,” said 
Mrs. Buxton to Mrs. Waldron a few days later in the month of sun- 
shine and roses. 

I did not think it possible when she left,” was the reply. “ Why 
do you say so now ?” 

^^Oh, Mrs. Rayner writes that the captain had to go to Washing- 


166 


THE DESERTER. 


ton on some important family matters, and that she and Nellie were at 
the sea-shore again, and Mr. Van Antwerp was with them from morn- 
ing till night. He looked so worn and haggard, she said, that Nellie 
could not but take pity on him. Heavens ! think of having five 
hundred thousand dollars sighing its life away for you ! — especially 
when he’s handsome. Mrs. Rayner made me promise to send af right 
back, because he would never give her one before, but she sent his 
pictuie. It’s splendid. Wait, and I’ll show you.” And Mrs. Bux- 
ton darted into the house. 

When she reappeared, three or four young cavalrymen were at the 
gate, chatting with Mrs. Waldron, and the picture was passed from 
hand to hand, exciting varied comment. It was a simple carte de visiter 
of the style once spoken of as vignette, — only the head and shoulders 
being visible, — but it was the picture of a strong, clear-cut face, with 
thick, wavy black hair just tingerng with gray, a drooping moustache, 
and long English whiskers. The eyes were heavy-browed, and, though 
partially shaded by the gold-rimmed pince-nez, were piercing and fine. 
Mr. Van Antwerp was unquestionably a fine-looking man. 

Here comes Hayne,” said Boyce. Show it to him. He likes 
pictures ; though I wouldn’t like this one if I were in his place.” 

Mr. Hayne stopped in some surprise when hailed, greeted Mrs. 
Waldron warmly, and bowed courteously to Mrs. Buxton, who was 
watching him narrowly. 

AVant to see a picture of the man you ought to go and perforate ?” 
asked Webster, with that lofty indifference which youngsters have to 
the ravages of the tender passion on subjects other than themselves. 

^^To whom do you refer?” asked Hayne, smiling gravely, and 
little imagining what was in store for him. 

^^This,” said AVebster, holding out the card. Hayne took it, gave 
one glance, started, seized it with both hands, studied it eagerly, while 
his own face rapidly paled, then looked up with quick, searching eyes. 

^^AAlio is this?” he asked. 

‘^The man who’s engaged to Miss Travers, — Mr. Van Antwerp.” 

‘^This — this — Mr. Van Antwerp!” exclaimed Hayne, his face 
white as a sheet. Here, take it, Boyce I” And in an instant he 
had turned and gone. 

Well, I’ll be hanged if I knew he was that hard hit,” drawled 
Webster. Did you, Boyce ?” 

But Boyce did not answer. 


THE DESERTER. 


]67 


A gorgeous moonlight is bathing the Jersey coast in sparkling 
silver. The tumbling billows come thundering in to the shining 
strand, and sending their hissing, seething, whirling waters, all shim- 
mer and radiance, to the very feet of the groups of spectators. There 
are hundreds of people scattered here and there along the shingle, and 
among the groups a pale-faced young man in tweed travelling-suit has 
mad(* his way to a point where he can command a view of all the 
passers-by. It is nearly eleven o’clock before they begin to break up 
and eek the broad corridors of the brilliantly-lighted hotel. A great 
military band of nearly forty pieces is playing superbly at intervals, 
and every now and then, as some stirring martial strains come thrilling 
through the air, a young girl in a group near at hand beats time with 
her pretty foot and seems to quiver with the influence of the soldier 
melodies. A tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired man bends devotedly over 
her, but he, too, seems to rise to his full height at times, and there is 
something in the carriage and mien that tells that soldier songs have 
thrilled his veins ere now. And this man the young traveller in gray 
watches as though his eyes were fascinated. Standing in the shade of 
a little summer-house, he never ceases his scrutiny of the group. 

At last the musicians go, and the people follow. The sands are 
soon deserted ; the great piazzas are emptied of their promenaders ; the 
halls and corridors are still patronized by the few belated chaperons 
and their giddy charges. The music-loving girl has gone aloft to her 
room, and her aunt, the third member of the group that so chained the 
attention of the young man in gray, lingers for a moment to exchange 
a few words with their cavalier. He seems in need of consolation. 

Don’t be so down-hearted, Mr. Van Antwerp. It is very early in 
the summer, and you have the whole season before you.” 

No, Mrs. Rayner : it is very different from last year. I cannot 
explain it, but I know there has been a change. I feel as — as I used 
to in my old, wild days when a change of luck was coming. It’s like 
the gambler’s superstition ; but I cannot shake it off. Something told 
me she was lost to me when you boarded that Pacific Express last Feb- 
ruary. I was a fool ever to have let her go.” 

Is she still so determined ?” 

I cannot shake her resolution. She says that at the end of the 
year’s time originally agreed upon she will keep her promise ; but she 
will listen to no earlier marriage. I have about given up all hope. 
Something again — that fearful something I cannot shake off — tells me 


168 


THE DESERTER. 


that my only chance lay in getting her to go with me this month. Once 
abroad with her, I could make her happy ; but ’’ 

He breaks off irresolutely, looking about him in the strange, hunted 
manner she has noted once or twice already. 

‘‘You are all unstrung, Mr. Van Antwerp. Why not go to bed 
and try and sleep? You will be so much brighter to-morrow. 

“ I cannot sleep. But don’t let me keep you. I’ll go out and smoke 
a cigar. Good-night, Mrs. Bayner. Whatever comes of it all, I shall 
not forget your kindness.” 

So he turns away, and she still stands at the foot of the staircase, 
watching him uneasily. He has aged greatly in the past few months. 
She is shocked to see how gray, how fitful, nervous, irritable, he has 
become. As he moves towards the door-way, she notes how thin his 
cheek has grown, and wonders at the irresolution in his movements 
when he reaches the broad piazza. He stands there an instant, the 
massive door- way forming a frame for a picture en silhouette, his tall 
spare figure thrown black upon the silver sea beyond. He looks up and 
down the now-deserted galleries, fumbles in his pockets for his cigar-case, 
bites off with nervous clip the end of a huge “ Begalia,” strikes a light, 
and before the flame is half applied to his weed throws it away, then 
turns sharply and strides out of sight tow^ards the office. 

Another instant, and, as though in pursuit, a second figure, erect, 
soldierly, with quick and bounding step strides across the glittering 
moon-streak, and Mrs. Kayner’s heart stands still. 

Only for an instant, though. She has seen and recognized Lawrence 
Hayne. Concealed from them he is following Mr. Van Antwerp, and 
there can be but one purpose in his coming here, — Nellie. But what 
can he want with her — her rightful lover ? She springs from the lower 
step on which she has been standing, runs across the tessellated floor, 
and stops short in the door-way, gazing after the two figures. She is 
startled to find them close at hand, — one. Van Antwerp, close to the 
railing, facing towards her, his features ghastly in the moonlight, his 
left hand resting, and supporting him, on one of the tall wooden pil- 
lars ; the other, Hayne, with white clinching fists, advancing upon 
him. Above the low boom and roar of the surf she distinctly hears the 
clear tenor ring of his voice in the tone of command she last heard 
under the shadow of the Bockies, two thousand miles away : 

“ Halt !” 

No wonder a gentleman in civil life looks amazed at so peremptory 


THE DESEETEB. 


169 


a summons from a total stranger. In his high indignation will he not 
strike the impertinent subaltern to earth ? As a well-bred woman, it 
occurs to her that she ought to rush out and avert hostilities by in- 
^troducing them, or something ; but she has no time to act. The next 
words simply take her })reath away : 

^‘Sergeant Gower, I arrest you as a deserter and thief! You de- 
serted from F troop, — th Cavalry, at Battle Butte 

She sees the fearful gleam on the dark man^s face ; there is a sudden 
spring, a clinch, a straining to and fro of two forms, — one tall, black, 
snaky, the other light, lithe, agile, and trained ; muttered curse, panting 
breath, and then, sure as fate, the taller man is being borne backward 
against the rail. She sees the dark arm suddenly relax its grasp of the 
gray form and disappear an instant. Then, there it comes again, and 
with it a gleam of steel. With one shriek of warning and terror she 
springs towards them, — -just in time. Hayne glances up, catches the 
lifted wrist, hurls his whole weight upon the tottering figure, and over 
goes the Knickerbocker prone upon the floor. Hayne turns one in- 
stant : “ Go in-doors, Mrs. Rayner. This is no place for you. Leave 
him to me.’’ 

And in that instant, before either can prevent, Steven Van Antwerp, 
alias Gower, springs to his feet, leaps over the balcony rail, and disap- 
pears in the depths below. It is a descent of not more than ten feet to 
the sands beyond the dark passage that underlies the piazza, but he has 
gone down into the passage itself. When Mr. Hayne, running down 
the steps, gains his way to the space beneath the piazza, no trace of the 
fugitive can he find. 

Nor does Mr. Van Antwerp appear at breakfast on the following 
morning, nor again to any person known to this story. An officer of 
the — th Cavalry, spending a portion of the following winter in Paris, 
writes that he met him face to face one day in the galleries of the. J^i;#uvre. 
Being in civilian costume, of course, and much changed in ap^jarance 
since he was a youth in the straps of a second lieutenant, it was possible 
for him to take a good long look at the man he had not seen since he 
wore the chevrons of a dashing sergeant in the Baltle Butte campaign. 

He has grown almost white,” wrote the lieutenant, and I’m told he 
has abandoned his business in New York and never will return to the 
United States.” 

Rayner, too, has grown gray. A telegram from his wife sum- 
H 16 


170 


THE DESERTER. 


moned him to the sea-side from Washington the day after this strange 
adventure of hers. He found her somewhat prostrate, his sister-in- 
law very pale and quiet, and the clerks of the hotel unable to account 
for the disappearance of Mr. Van Antwerp. Lieutenant Hayne, they 
said, had told them he received news which compelled him to go back 
to New York at once; but the gentleman’s traps were all in his room. 
Mr. Hayne, too, had gone to New York; and thither the captain 
followed. A letter came to him at the Westminster which he read and 
handed in silence to Hayne. It was as follows : 

By the time this reaches you I shall be beyond reach of the law 
and on my way to Europe to spend what may be left of my days. I 
hope they may be few ; for the punishment that has fallen upon me is 
more than I can bear, though no more than I deserve. You have heard 
that my college days were wild, and that after repeated warnings my 
father drove me from home, sending me to Wyoming to embark in the 
cattle-business. I preferred gambling, and lost what he gave me. There 
was nothing then left but to enlist ; and I joined the — th. Mother 
still believed me in or near Denver, and wrote regularly there. The 
life was horrible to me after the luxury and lack of restraint I had 
enjoyed, and I meant to desert. Chance threw in my way that tempta- 
tion. 1 robbed poor Hull the night before he was killed, repacked the 
paper so that even the torn edges would show the greenbacks, resealed 
it, — all just as I have had to hear through her pure and sacred lips it 
was finally told and her lover saved. 

God knows I was shocked when I heard in Denver he was to be 
tried for the crime. I hastened to Cheyenne, not daring to show my- 
self to him or any one, and restored every cent of the money, placing 
it in Mrs. Clancy’s hands, as I dared not stay ; but I had hoped to 
givre it to Clancy, who had not arrived. The police knew me, and I 
had to go. I gave every cent I had, and walked back to Denver, then 
got word to mother of my fearful danger ; and, though she never knew 
I was a deserter, she sent me money, and I came East and went 
abroad. Then my whole life changed. I was appalled to think how 
low I had fallen. I shunned companionship, studied, did well at 
Heidelberg ; father forgave me, and died ; but God has not forgiven, 
^ ind at the moment when I thought my life redeemed this retribution 
' overtakes me. 

If I may ask anything, it is that mother may never know the 


THE DESERTER, 


171 


truth. I will tell her that Nellie could not love me, and I could not 
bear to stay.” 

Some few weeks later that summer Miss Travers stood by the same 
balcony rail, with an open letter in her hand. There was a soft flush 
on her pretty, peachy cheek, and a far-away look in her sweet blue 
eyes. 

What news from Warrener, Nellie?” asked Mrs. E,a}Tier. 

Fluffy has reappeared.” 

‘‘Indeed! Where?” 

“ At Mr. Hayne’s. He writes that as he returned, the moment he 
entered the hall she came running up to him, arching her back and 
purring her delight and welcoming him just as though she belonged 
there now ; and ” 

“ And what, Nellie ?” 

“He says he means to keep her until I come to claim her.” 



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FBOM THE EAHKS. 


I. 

A STRANGE thing had happened at the old fort during the still 
watches of the night. Even now, at nine in the morning, no 
one seemed to be in possession of the exact circumstances. The officer 
of the day was engaged in an investigation, and all that appeared to be 

f enerally known was the bald statement that the sentry on Number 
"ive^^ had fired at somebody or other about half after three ; that he 
had fired by order of the officer of the day, who was on his post at 
the time ; and that now he flatly refused to talk about the matter. 

Garrison curiosity, it is perhaps needless to say, was rather stimu- 
lated than lulled by this announcement. An unusual number of officers 
were chatting about head-quarters when Colonel Maynard came over to 
his office. Several ladies, too, who had hitherto shown but languid 
interest in the morning music of the band, had taken the trouble to 
stroll down to the old quadrangle, ostensibly to see guard-mounting. 
Mrs. Maynard was almost always on her piazza at this time, and her 
lovely daughter was almost sure to be at the gate with two or three 
young fellows lounging about her. This morning, however, not a soul 
appeared in front of the colonePs quarters. 

Guard-mounting at the fort was not held until nine o’clock, con- 
trary to the somewhat general custom at other posts in our scattered 
army. Colonel Maynard had ideas of his own upon the subject, and 
it was his theory that everything worked more smoothly if he had 
finished a leisurely breakfast before beginning office-work of any kind, 
and neither the colonel nor his family cared to breakfast before eight 
o’clock. In view of the fact that Mrs. Maynard had borne that name 
but a very short time and that her knowledge of army life dated only • 
from the mouth of May, the garrison was disposed to consider her en- 


176 


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titled to much latitude of choice in such matters, even while it did say 
that she was old enough to be above bride-like sentiment. The w^omen- 
folk at the fort were of opinion that ]\Irs. Maynard was fifty. It must 
be conceded that she was over forty, also that this was her second entiy 
into the bonds of matrimony. 

That no one should now appear on the colonePs piazza was obv i- 
ously a disappointment to several people. In some way or other most 
of the breakfast-tables at the post had been enlivened by accounts of 
the mysterious shooting. The soldiers going the rounds with the 
police-cart,’’ the butcher and grocer and baker from town, the old 
milkwoman with her glistening cans, had all served as newsmongers 
from kitchen to kitchen, and the story that came in with the coffee to 
the lady of the house had lost nothing in bulk or bravery. The groups 
of officers chatting and smoking in front of head-quarters gained acces- 
sions every moment, while the ladies seemed more absorbed in chat and 
confidences than in the sweet music of the band. 

What fairly exasperated some men was the fact that the old officer 
of the day was not out on the parade where he belonged. Only the 
new incumbent was standing there in statuesque pose as the band 
trooped along the line, and the fact that the colonel had sent out word 
that the ceremony would proceed without Captain Chester only served 
to add fuel to the flame of popular conjecture. It was known that the 
colonel was holding a consultation with closed doors with the old 
officer of the day, and never before since he came to the regiment had 
the colonel been known to look so pale and strange as when he glanced 
out for just one moment and called his orderly. The soldier sprang up, 
saluted, received his message, and, with every eye following him, sped 
off towards the old stone guard-house. In three minutes he was on 
his way back, accompanied by a corporal and private of the guard in 
full dress uniform. 

That’s Leary, — the man who fired the shot,” said Captain Wilton 
to his senior lieutenant, who stood by his side. 

“Belongs to:B Company, doesn’t he?” queried the subaltern. 
“ Seems to me I have heard Captain Armitage say he was one of his 
best men.” 

“Yes. He’s been in the regiment as long as I can remember. 
What on earth can tlie colonel want him for ? Near as I can learn, he 
only fired by Chester’s order.” 

“ And neither of them knows what he fired at.” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


177 


It was perhaps ten minutes more before Private Leary came forth 
from the door- way of the colonel’s office, nodded to the, corporal, and, 
raising their white-gloved hands in salute to the ^oup of officers, the 
two men tossed their rifles to the right shoulder ana strode back to the 
guard. 

Another moment, and the colonel himself opened his door and ap- 
peared in the hall-way. He stopped abruptly, turned back and spoke 
a few words in low tone, then hurried through the groups at the en- 
trance, looking at no man, avoiding their glances, and giving faint and 
impatient return to the soldierly salutations that greeted him. The 
sweat was beaded on his forehead ; his lips were white, and his face full 
of a trouble and dismay no man had ever seen there before. He spoke 
to no one, but walked rapidly homeward, entered, and closed the gate 
and door behind him. 

For a moment there was silence in the group. Few men in the 
service were better loved and honored than the veteran soldier who 

commanded the th I]ifantry ; and it was with genuine concern 

that his officers saw him so deeply and painfully affected, — for affected 
he certainly was. Never before had his cheery voice denied them a 
cordial “ Good-morning, gentlemen.” Never before had his blue eyes 
flinched. He had been their comrade and commander in years of 
frontier service, and his bachelor home had been the rendezvous of all 
genial spirits when in garrison. They had missed him sorely when he 
went abroad on long leave the previous year, and were almost indig- 
nant when they received the news that he had met his fate in Italy and 
would return married. She” was the widow of a wealthy New ■ 
Yorker who had been dead some three years only, and, though over 
forty, did not look her years to masculine eyes when she reached the 
fort in May. After knowing her a week, the garrison had decided to 
a man that the colonel had done wisely. Mrs. Maynard was charming, 
courteous, handsome, and accomplished. Only among the women were 
^ there still a few who resented their colonel’s capture ; and some of 
these, oblivious of the fact that they had tempted him with rela- 
tions of their own, were sententious and severe in their condemnation 
of second marriage ; for the colonel, too, was indulging in a second ex- 
periment. Of his first, only one man in the regiment, besides the com- 
' mander, could tell anything ; and he, to the just indignation of almost 
everybody, would not discuss the subject. It was rumored that in the 
old days when Maynard was senior captain and Chester junior sub- 
H* 


178 


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altern m their former regiment the two had very little in common. It 
was known that the first Mrs. Maynard, while still young and beautiful, 
liad died abroad. It was hinted that the resignation of a dashing 
lieutenant of the regiment, which was synchronous with her departure 
for foreign shores, was demanded by his brother officers ; but it was 
useless asking Captain Chester. He could not tell ; and — wasn’t it 
odd? — here was Chester again, the only man in the colonel’s confi- 
dence in an hour of evident trouble. 

^^By Jove! what’s gone wrong with the chief?” was the first 
exclamation from one of the older officers. I never saw him look so 
broken.” 

As no explanation suggested itself, they began edging in towards 
the office. The door stood open ; a hand-bell banged ; a clerk darted 
in from the sergeant-major’s rooms, and Captain Chester was revealed 
seated at the colonel’s desk. This in itself was sufficient to induce 
several officers to stroll in and look inquiringly around. Captain 
Chester, merely nodding, went on with some writing at which he was 
engaged. 

After a moment’s awkward silence and uneasy glancing at one an- 
other, the party seemed to arrive at the conclusion that it was time to 
speak. The band had ceased, and the new guard had marched away 
behind its pealing bugles. Lieutenant Hall winked at his comrades, 
strolled hesitatingly over to the desk, balanced unsteadily on one leg, 
and, with his hands sticking in his trousers-pockets and his forage-cap 
swinging from protruding thumb and forefinger, cleared his throat, and, 
with marked lack of confidence, accosted his absorbed superior : 

Colonel gone home ?” 

Didn’t you see him ?” was the uncompromising reply ; and the 
captain did not deign to raise his head or eyes. 

‘‘ Well — er — yes, I suppose I did,” said Mr. Hall, shifting uncom- 
fortably to his other leg, and prodding the floor with the toe of his 
boot. 

Then that wasn’t what you wanted to know, I presume,” said 
Captain Chester, signing his name with a vicious dab of the pen and 
bringing his fist down with a thump on the blotting-pad, while he 
wheeled around in his chair and looked squarely up into the perturbed 
features of the junior. 

No, it wasn’t,” answered Mr. Hall, in an injured tone, while an 


FROM THE BANKS. 179 

audible snicker at the door added to his sense of discomfort. What 
I mainly wanted was to know could I go to town.’^ 

‘‘ That matter is easily arranged, Mr. Hall. All you have to do is 
to get out of that uncomfortable and unsoldierly position, stand in the 
attitude in which you are certainly more at home and infinitely more 
picturesque, proffer your request in respectful words, and there is no 
question as to the result.’^ 

Oh ! you’re in command, then?” said Mr. Hall, slowly wriggling 
into the position of the soldier and flushing through his bronzed 
cheeks. “ I thought the colonel might be only gone for a minute.” 

The colonel may not be back for a week ; but you be here for 

dress-parade all the same, and Mr. Hall !” he called, as the young 

officer was turning away. The latter faced about again. 

Was Mr. Jerrold going with you to town?” 

Yes, sir. He was to drive me in his dog-cart, and it’s over here 
now.” 

Mr. Jerrold cannot go, — at least not until I have seen him.” 

‘^Why, captain, he got the colonel’s permission at breakfast this 
morning.” 

“ That is true, no doubt, Mr. Hall.” And the captain dropped his 
sharp and captious manner, and his voice fell, as though in sympathy 
with the cloud that settled on his face. “I cannot explain matters just 
now. There are reasons why the permission is withdrawn for the time 
being. The adjutant will notify him.” And Captain Chester turned 
to his desk again as the new officer of the day, guard-book in hand, 
entered to make his report. 

The usual orders, captain,” said Chester, as he took the book from 
his hand and looked over the list of prisoners. Then, in bold and 
rapid strokes, he wrote across the page the customary certificate of the 
old officer of the day, winding up with this remark : 

He also inspected guard and visited sentries between 3 and 3.35 
A.M. The firing at 3.30 a.m. was by his order.” 

Meantime, those officers who had entered and who had no immediate 
duty to perform were standing or seated around the room, but all ol> 
serving profound silence. For a moment or two no sound was heard 
but the scratching of the captain’s pen. Then, with some embarrass- 
ment and hesitancy, he laid it down and glanced around him. 

Has any one here anything to ask, — any business to transact?” 

Two or three mentioned some routine matters that required the 


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action of the post-commander, but did so reluctantly, as though they 
preferred to await the orders of the colonel himself. Captain Wilton, 
indeed, spoke his sentiments : 

I wanted to see Colonel Maynard about getting two men of my 
company relieved from extra duty ; but, as he isn’t here, I fancy I had 
better wait.^^ 

^‘Not at all. Who are your men? — Have it done at once, Mr. 
Adjutant, and supply their places from my company, if need be. Now 
is there anything else 

The group was apparently nonplussed,” as the adjutant afterwards 
put it, by such unlooked-for complaisance on the pai*t of the usually 
crotchety senior captain. Still, no one offered to lead the others and 
leave the room. After a moment’s nervous rapping with his knuckles 
on the desk. Captain Chester again abruptly s})oke : 

Gentlemen, I am sorry to incommode you, but, if there be nothing 
more that you desire to see me about, I shall go on wdth some other 
matters, which — pardon me — do not require your presence.” 

At this very broad hint the party slowly found their legs, and with 
much wonderment and not a few resentful glances at their temporary 
commander the officers sauntered to the door-way. There, however, 
several stopped again, still reluctant to leave in the face of so pervading 
a mystery, for Wilton turned. 

Am I to understand that Colonel Maynard has left the post to be 
gone any length of time ?” he asked. 

He has not yet gone. I do not know how long he will be gone 
or how soon he will start. For pressing personal reasons he has turned 
over the command to me ; and, if he decide to remain away, of course 
some field-officer will be ordered to come to head-quarters. For a day 
or two you will have to worry along with me ; but I shan’t worry you 
more than I can help. I’ve got mystery and mischief enough here to 
keep me busy, God knows. Just ask Sloat to come back here to me, 
will you? And — Wilton, I did not mean to be abrupt with you. 
I’m all upset to-day. Mr. Adjutant, notify Mr. Jerrold at once that 
he must not leave the post until I have seen him. It is the colonel’s 
last order. Tell him so.” 

11 . 

The night before had been unusually dark. A thick veil of clouds 
overspread the heavens and hid the stars. Moon there was none, for 


FROM THE RANKS. 


181 


the faint silver crescent that gleamed for a moment through the swift- 
sailing wisps of vapor had dropped beneath the horizon soon after 
tattoo, and the mournful strains of ‘^taps,^^ borne on the rising wdnd, 
seemed to signal extinguish lights’^ to the entire firmament as well as 
to Fort Sibley. There was a dance of some kind at the quarters of 
one of the staff-officers living far up the row on the southern terrace. 
Chester heard the laughter and chat as the young officers and their 
convoy of matrons and maids came tripping homeward after midnight. 
He was a crusty old bachelor, to use his own description, and rarely 
ventured into these scenes of social gayety, and, besides, he was officer 
of the day, and it was a theory he was fond of expounding to juniors 
that when on guard no soldier should permit himself to be drawn from 
the scene of his duties. With his books and his pipe Chester whiled 
away the lonely hours of the early night, and wondered if the wind 
■would blow up a rain or disperse the clouds entirely. Towards one 
o’clock a light, bounding footstep approached his door, and the portal 
flew open as a trim-built young fellow with laughing eyes and an air 
of exuberant health and spirits came briskly in. It was Rollins, the 
junior second lieutenant of the regiment, and Chester’s own and only 
pet, — so said the envious others. He was barely a year out of leading- 
strings at the Point, and as full of hope and pluck and mischief as a 
colt. Moreover, he was frank and teachable, said Chester, and didn’t 
come to him with the idea that he had nothing to learn and less to do. 
The boy won upon his gruff captain from the very start, and, to the 
incredulous delight of the whole regiment, within six months the old 
cynic had taken him into his heart and home, and Mr. Rollins occupied 
a pleasant room under Chester’s roof- tree, and was the sole accredited 
sharer of the captain’s mess. To a youngster just entering service, 
whose ambition it was to stick to business and make a record for zeal 
and efficiency, these were manifest advantages. There were men in the 
regiment to whom such close communion with a w^atchful senior would 
have been most embarrassing, and Mr. Rollins’s predecessor as second 
lieutenant of Chester’s company was one of these. Mr. J errold was a ‘ 
happy man when promotion took him from under the wing of “ Crusty 
Jake” and landed him in Company B. More than that, it came just at 
a time when, after four years of loneliness and isolation at an up-river 
stockade, his new company and his old one, together with four others 
from the regiment, were ordered to join head-quarters and the band at 
the most delightful station in the Northwest. Here Mr. Rollins had 


182 


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reported for duty during the previous autumn, and here they were with 
troops of other arms of the service, enjoying the close proximity of all 
the good tilings of civilization. 

Chester looked up with a quizzical smile as his plebe” came in : 

AYell, sir, how many dances had you with ‘ Sweet Alice, Ben 
Bolt’ ? Not many, I fancy, with Mr. Jerrold monopolizing everything, 
as usual. By gad ! some good fellow could make a colossal fortune 
in buying that young man at my valuation and selling him at his 
own.” 

^‘Oh, come, now, captain,” laughed Bollins, Jerrold’s no such 
slouch as you make him out. He’s lazy, and he likes to spoon, and 
he puts up with a good deal of petting from the girls, — who wouldn’t, 
if he could get it ? — but he is jolly and big-hearted, and don’t put on 
any airs, — with us, at least, — and the mess like him first-rate. ’Tain’t 
his fault that he’s handsome and a regular lady-killer. You must 
admit that he had a pretty tough four years of it up there at that cussed 
old Indian graveyard, and it’s only natural he should enjoy getting 
here, where there are theatres and concerts and operas and dances and 
dinners ” 

Yes, dances and dinners and daughters, — all delightful, I know, 
but no excuse for a man’s neglecting his manifest duty, as he is doing 
and has been ever since we got here. Any other time the colonel would 
have straightened him out ; but no use trying it now, when both women 
in his household are as big fools about the man as anybody in town, — 
bigger, unless I’m a born idiot.” And Chester rose excitedly. 

I suppose he had Miss Benwick pretty much to himself to-night ?” 
he presently demanded, looking angrily and searchingly at his junior, 
as though half expecting him to dodge the question. 

Oh, yes. Why not ? It’s pretty evident she would rather dance 
and be with him than with any one else : so what can a fellow do? Oi 
course we ask her to dance, and all that, and I think he wants us to ; 
but I cannot help feeling rather a bore to her, even if she is only 
eighteen, and there are plenty of pleasant girls in the garrison who 
don’t get any too much attention, now we’re so near a big city, and I 
like to be with them.” 

Yes, and it’s the right thing for you to do, youngster. That’s one 
trait I despise in Jerrold. When we were up there at the stockade two 
winters ago, and Captain Gray’s little girl was there, he hung around 
her from morning till night, and the poor little thing fairly beiamed and 


FROM THE RANKS. 


183 


blossomed with delight. Look at her now, man ! He don’t go near 
her. He hasn’t had the decency to take her a walk, a drive, or any- 
thing, since we got here. He began, from the moment we came, with 
that gang in town. He was simply devoted to Miss Beaubien until 
Alice Keiiwick came ; then he dropped her like a hot brick. By the 
Eternal, Rollins, he hasn’t gotten off with tliai old love yet, you mark 
my words. There’s Indian blood in her veins, and a look in her eye 
that makes me wriggle, sometimes. I watched her last night at parade 
when she drove out here with that copper-faced old squaw, her mother. 
For all her French and Italian education and her years in New York 
and Paris, that girl’s got a wild streak in her somewhere. She sat there 
watching him as the officers marched to the front, and then her, as he 
went up and joined Miss Ren wick ; and there was a gleam of her white 
teeth and a flash in her black eyes that made me think of the leap of a 
knife from the sheath. Not but what ’twould serve him right if she 
did play him some devil’s trick. It’s his own doing. Were any people 
out from town ?” he suddenly asked. 

Yes, half a dozen or so,” answered Mr. Rollins, who was pulling 
off his boots and inserting his feet into easy slippers, while old 
Crusty” tramped excitedly up and down the floor. Most of them 
stayed out here, I think. Only one team went back across the bridge.” 

Whose was that ?” 

‘^The Buttons’, I believe. Young Cub Sutton was out with his 
sister and another girl.” 

There’s another damned fool !” growled Chester. That boy has 
ten thousand a year of his own, a beautiful home that will be his, a 
doting mother and sister, and everything wealth can buy, and yet, by 
gad ! he’s unhappy because he can’t be a poor devil of a lieutenant, 
witli nothing but drills, debts, and rifle-practice to enliven him. That’s 
what brings him out here all the time. He’d swap places with you in 
a minute. Isn’t he very thick with Jerrold ?” 

Oh, yes, rather. Jerrold entertains him a good deal.” 

Which is returned with compound interest. I’ll bet you. Mr. 
Jerrold simply makes a convenience of him. He won’t make love to 
his sister, because the poor, rich, unsophisticated girl is as ugly as she 
is ubiquitous. His majesty is fastidious, you see, and seeks only the 
caress of beauty, and while he lives there at the Suttons’ when he goes 
to town, and dines and sleeps and smokes and wines there, and uses 
tlieir box at the opera-house, and is courted and flattered by the old 


184 


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lady because dear Cubby worships the ground he walks on and poor 
Fanny Sutton thinks him adorable, he turns his back on the girl at 
every dance because she canH dance, and leaves her to you fellows who 
have a conscience and some idea of decency. He gives all his devotions 
to Nina Beaubien, who dances like a GorypMey and drops her when Alice 
Renwick comes with her glowing Spanish beauty. Oh, damn it, Ihn 
an old fool to get worked up over it as I do, but you young fello^vs 
don’t see what I see. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen ; and pray 
God you never may ! That’s where the shoe pinches, Rollins. It is 
what he reminds me of — not so much what he iSy I suppose — that I get 
rabid about. He is for all the world like a man we had in the old 
regiment when you were in swaddling-clothes ; and I never look at 
Mamie Gray’s sad, white face that it doesn’t bring back a girl I knew 
just then whose heart was broken by just such a shallow, selfish, adora- 
ble scoun No, I won’t use that word in speaking of Jerrold ; but 

it’s what I fear. Rollins, you call him generous. Well, so he is, — 
lavish, if you like, with his money and his hospitality here in the post. 
Money cx)mes easily to him, and goes ; but you boys misuse the term. 
I call him selfish to the core, because he can deny himself no luxury, 
no pleasure, though it may wring a woman’s life — or, more than that, 
her honor — to give it him.” The captain was tramping up and down 
the room now, as was his wont when excited.; his face was flushed, 
and his hand clinched. He turned suddenly and faced the younger 
oflicer, who sat gazing uncomfortably at the rug in front of the fire- 
place : 

Rollins, some day I may tell you a story that I’ve kept to myself 
all these years. You won’t wonder at my feeling as I do about these 
goings-on of your friend Jerrold when you hear it all, but it was just 
such a man as he who ruined one woman, broke the heart of another, 
and took the sunshine out of the life of two men from' that day to this. 
One of them was your colonel, the other your captain. Now go to bed. 
I’m going out.” And, throwing down his pipe, regardless of the 
scattering sparks and ashes. Captain Chester strode into the hall-way, 
picked up the first forage-cap he laid hands on, and banged himself out 
of the front door. 

Mr. Rollins remained for some moments in the same attitude, still * 
gazing abstractedly at the rug, and listening to the nervous tramp oi 
his senior officer on the piazza without. Then he slowly and thought- 
fully went to his room, where his pei turbed spirit was soon soothed in 


FROM THE RANKS. 


185 


sleep. His conscience being clear and his health perfect, there were no 
deep cares to keep him tossing on a restless pillow. 

To Chester, however, sleep was impossible ; he tramped the piazza 
a full hour befbre he felt placid enough to go and inspect his guard. 
The sentries were calling three o’clock, and the wind had died away, 
as he started on his round. Dark as was the night, he carried no 
lantern. The main garrison was well lighted by lamps, and the road 
circling the old fort was broad, smooth, and bordered by a stone coping 
wall where it skirted the precipitous descent into the river-bottom. As 
he passed down the plank walk west of the quadrangle wherein lay the 
old barracks and the stone quarters of the commanding officer and the 
low one-storied row of bachelor dens, he could not help noting the 
silence and peace of the night. Not a light was visible at any window 
as he strode down the line. The challenge of the sentry at the old 
stone tower sounded unnecessarily sharp and loud, and his response of 
“Officer of the day” was lower than usual, as though rebuking the 
unseemly outcry. The guard came scrambling out and formed hur- 
riedly to receive him, but the captain’s inspection was of the briefest 
kind. Barely glancing along the prison corridor to see that the bars 
were in place, he turned back into the night, and made for the line of 
posts along the river-bank. The sentry at the high bridge across the 
gorge, and the next one, well around to the southeast flank, were suc- 
cessively visited and briefly questioned as to their instructions, and then 
tlie captain plodded sturdily on until he came to the sharp bend around 
the outermost angle of the fort and found himself passing behind the 
quarters of the commanding officer, a substantial two-storied stone house 
with mansard roof and dormer-windows. The road in the rear was 
some ten feet below the level of the parade inside the quadrangle, and 
consequently, as the house faced the parade, what was the ground-floor 
from that front became the second story at the rear. The kitchen, store- 
room, and servants’ rooms were on this lower stage, and opened upon 
the road ; an outer stairway ran up to the centre door at the Kack, but 
at the east and west flanks of the house the stone walls stood without 
port or window except those above the eaves, — the dormers. Light and 
air in abundance streamed through the broad Venetian windows north 
and south when light and air were needed. This night, as usual, all 
was tightly closed below, all darkness aloft as he glanced up at the 
dormers high above his head. As he did so, his foot struck a sudden 
and sturdy obstacle; he stumbled and pitched heavily forward, and 


186 


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found himself sprawling at full length upon a ladder lying on the 
ground almost in the middle of the roadway. 

Damn those painters he growled between his set teeth. They 
leave tlieir infernal man-traps around in the very hope of catching me, 
I believe. Now, who but a painter would have left a ladder in such a 
place as this 

Dising ruefully and rubbing a bruised knee with his hand, he 
limped painfully ahead a few steps, until he came to the side-wall of 
the coloneFs house. Here a plank walk passed from the roadway along 
the western wall until almost on a line with the front piazza, where by 
a flight of steps it was carried up to the level of the parade. Here he 
paused a moment to dust oft* his clothes and rearrange his belt and 
sword. He stood leaning against the wall and facing the gray stone 
gable end of the row of old-fashioned quarters that bounded the parade 
upon the southwest. All was still darkness and silence. 

Confound this sword he muttered again : the thing made rat- 
tle and racket enough to wake the dead. Wonder if I disturbed any- 
body at the colonePs.” 

As though in answer to his suggestion, there suddenly appeared, 
high on the blank wall before him, the reflection of a faint light. Had 
a little night-lamp been turned on in the front room of the upper story? 
The gleam came from the north window on the side : he saw plainly 
the shadow of the pretty lace curtains, looped loosely back. Then the 
shade was gently raised, and there was for an instant the silhouette of 
a slender hand and wrist, the shadow of a lace-bordered sleeve. Then 
the light receded, as though carried back across the room, waned, as 
though slowly extinguished, and the last shadows showed the curtains 
still looped back, the rolling shade still raised. 

I thought so,^^ he growled. One tumble like that is enough 
to wake the Seven Sleepers, let alone a love-sick girl who is prob- 
ably dreaming over Jerrold’s parting words. She is spirited and blue- 
blooded enough to have more sense, too, that same superb brunette. 
Ah, Miss Alice, I wonder if you think that fellow^s love w’orth having. 
It is two hours since he left you, — more than that, — and here you are 
awake yet, — cannot sleep, — w\ant more air, and have to come and raise 
your shade. No such warm night, either.^^ These were his reflections 
as he picked up his offending sword and, more slowly and cautiously 
now, groped his way along the western terrace. He passed the row 
of bachelor quarters, and was well out beyond the limits of the fort 


FROM THE BANKS. 


187 


before he came upon the next sentry, — '^Number Five,” — and recog- 
nized, in the stern Who comes there ?” and the sharp rattle of the 
bayonet as it dropped to the charge, the well-known challenge of 
Private Leary, one of the oldest and most reliable soldiers in the regi- 
ment. 

All right on your post, Leary he asked, after having given the 
countersign. 

All right, I thinhy sor ; though if the captain had asked me that 
half an hour ago I’d not have said so. It was so dark I couldn’t see 
me hand afore me face, sor ; but about half-past two I was walkin’ 
very slow down back of the quarters, whin just close by Loot’nant 
Jerrold’s back gate I seen somethin’ movin’, and as I come softly along 
it riz up, an’ sure I thought ’twas the loot’nant himself, whin he 
seemed to catch sight o’ me or hear me, and he backed inside the gate 
an’ shut it. I was sure ’twas he, he was so tall and slim like, an’ so I 
niver said a word until I got to thinkin’ over it, and then I couldn’t 
spake. Sure if it had been the loot’nant he wouldn’t have backed 
away from a sintry ; he’d ’a’ come out bold and given the countersign ; 
but I didn’t think o’ that. It looked like him in the dark, an’ ’twas 
his quarters, an’ I thought it was him, until I thought ag’in, and then, 
sor, I wint back and searched the yard ; but there was no one there.” 

Hm ! Odd thing that, Leary ! Why didn’t yon challenge at first ?” 

‘‘Sure, sor, he lept inside the fince quick as iver we set eyes on 
each other. He was bendin’ down, and I thought it was one of the 
hound pups when I first sighted him.” 

“ And he hasn’t been around since ?” 

“ No, sor, nor nobody, till the officer of the day came along.” 

Chester walked away puzzled. Sibley was a most quiet and orderly 
garrison. Night prowlers had never been heard from, especially over 
here at the south and southwest fronts. The enlisted men going to or 
from town passed across the big, high bridge or went at once to their 
own quarters on the east and north. This southwestern terrace behind 
the bachelors’ row was the most secluded spot on the whole post, — so 
much so that when a fire broke out there among the fuel-heaps one sharp 
winter’s night a year agone it had well nigh envelo})ed the whole line 
before its existence was discovered. Indeed, not until after this occur- 
rence was a sentry posted on that front at all ; and, once ordered there, 
he had so little to do and was so comparatively sure to be undisturbed 
that the old soldiers eagerly sought the post in preference to any other, 


188 


FROM THE BANKS. 


and were given it as a peace privilege. For months, relief after relief 
tramped around the fort and found the terrace post as humdrum and 
silent as an empty church ; but this night Number Five” leaped sud- 
denly into notoriety. 

Instead of going home, Chester kept on across the plateau and took 
a long walk on the northern side of the reservation, where the quarter- 
master’s stables and corrals were placed. He was affected by a strange 
unrest. His talk with Kollins had roused the memories of years long 
gone by, — of days when he, too, was young and full of hope and faith, 
ay, full of love, — all lavished on one fair girl who knew it well, but 
gently, almost entreatingly, repelled him. Her heart was wrapped 
up in another, the Adonis of his day in the gay old seaboard garrison. 
She was a soldier’s child, barrack-born, simply taught, knowing little 
of the vice and temptations, the follies and the frauds, of the whirling 
life of civilization. A good and gentle mother had reared her and been 
called hence. Her father, an officer whose sabre-arm was left at Molino 
del Hey, and whose heart was crushed when the loving wife w^as taken 
from him, turned to the child who so resembled her, and centred there 
all his remaining love and life. He welcomed Chester to his home, and 
tacitly favored his suit, but in his blindness never saw how a few 
moonlit strolls on the old moss-grown parapet, a few evening dances in 
the casemates with handsome, wooing, winning Will Forrester, had 
done their work. She gave him all the wild, enthusiastic, worshipping 
love of her girlish heart just about the time Captain and Mrs. Maynard 
came back from leave, and then he grew cold and negligent tliere^ but 
lived at Maynard’s fireside ; and one day there came a sensation, — a 
tragedy, — and Mrs. Maynard went away, and died abroad, and a 
shocked and broken-hearted girl hid her face from all and pined at 
home, and Mr. Forrester’s resignation was sent from — no one knew 
just where, and no one would have cared to know, except Maynard. He 
would have followed him, pistol in hand, but Forrester gave him no 
chance. Years afterwards Chester again sought her and offered her his 
love and his name. It was useless, she told him, sadly. She lived 
only for her father now, and would never leave him till he died, and 
then — she prayed she might go too. Memories like this vMl come up 
at such times in these same still watches of the night.” Chester was 
in a moody frame of mind when about half an hour later he came back 
past the guard-house. The sergeant was standing near the lighted en- 
trance, and the captain called him : 


FROM THE BANKS. 


189 


There’s a ladder lying back of the colonel’s quarters on the road- 
way. Some of those painters left it, I suppose. It’s a wonder some 
of the reliefs have not broken their necks over it going around to-night. 
Let the next one pick it up and move it out of the way. Hasn’t it 
been reported?” 

‘‘Not to me, sir. Corporal Schreiber has command of this relief, 
and he has said nothing about it. Here he is, sir.” 

“ Didn’t you see it or stumble over it when posting your relief, 
corporal ?” asked Chester. 

“No indeed, sir. I — I think the captain must have been mistaken 
in thinking it a ladder. We would surely have struck it if it had been.” 

“No mistake at all, corporal. I lifted it. It is a long, heavy 
ladder, — over twenty feet, I should say.” 

“ There is such a ladder back there, captain,” said the sergeant, 
“but it always hangs on the fence just behind the young officers’ 
quarters, — Bachelors’ Bow, sir, I mean.” 

“ And that ladder was there an hour ago when I went my rounds,” 
said the corporal, earnestly. “ I had my hurricane-lamp, sir, and saw 
it on the fence plainly. And there was nothing behind the colonel’s at 
that hour.” 

Chester turned away, thoughtful and silent. Without a word he 
walked straight into the quadrangle, past the low line of stone build- 
ings, the offices of the adjutant and quartermaster, the home of the 
sergeant-major, the club- and billiard-room, past the long, piazza-shaded 
row of bachelor quarters, and came upon the plank walk at the corner 
of the colonel’s fence. Ten more steps, and he stood stock-still at the 
head of the flight of wooden stairs. 

There, dimly visible against the southern sky, its base on the plank 
walk below him, its top resting upon the eaves midway between the 
dormer-window and the roof of the piazza, so that one could step easily 
from it into the one or on to the other, was the very ladder that half an 
hour before was lying on the ground behind the house. 

His heart stood still. He seemed powerless to move, — even to 
think. Then a slight noise roused him, and with every nerve tingling 
he crouched ready for a spring. With quick, agile movements, noise- 
less as a cat, sinuous and stealthy as a serpent, the dark flgure of a man 
issued from Alice Benwick’s chamber window and came gliding down. 

One second more, and, almost as noiselessly, he reached the ground, 
then quickly raised and turned the ladder, stepped with it to the edge 


190 


FROM THE RANKS. 


of the roadway, and peered around the angle as though to see that no 
sentry was in sight, then vanished with his burden around the corner. 
Another second, and down the steps went Chester, three at a bound, tip- 
toeing it in pursuit. Ten seconds brought him close to the culprit, — a 
tall, slender shadow. 

" You villain ! Halt !” 

Down went the ladder on the dusty road. The hand that Chester 
had clinched upon the broad shoulder was hurled aside. There was a 
sudden whirl, a lightning blow that took the captain full in the chest 
and staggered him back upon the treacherous and entangling rungs, 
and, ere he could recover himself, the noiseless stranger had fairly 
whizzed into space and vanished in the darkness up the road. Chester 
sprang in pursuit. He heard the startled challenge of the sentry, and 
then Leary’s excited Halt, I say ! Halt !” and then he shouted, — 

Fire on him, Leary ! Bring him down !” 

Bang went the ready rifle with sharp, sullen roar that woke the 
echoes across the valley. Bang again, as Leary sent a second shot after 
the first. Then, as the captain came panting to the spot, they followed 
up the road. No sign of the runner. Attracted by the shots, the 
sergeant of the guard and one or two men, lantern-bearing, came run- 
ning to the scene. Excitedly they searched up and down the road in 
mingled hope and dread of finding the body of the marauder, or some 
clue or trace. Nothing ! Whoever he was, the fleet runner had van- 
ished and made good his escape. 

Who could it have been, sir ?” asked the sergeant of the officer of 
the day. Surely none of the men ever come round this way.” 

** I don’t know, sergeant ; I don’t know. Just take your lamp and 
see if there is anything visible down there among the rocks. He may 
have been hit and leaped the wall. — Do you think you hit him, 
Leary?” 

‘‘ I can’t say, sor. He came by me like a flash. I had just a 
second’s look at him, and Sure I niver saw such runnin’.” 

Could you see his face ?” asked Chester, in a low tone, as the other 
men moved away to search the rocks. 

“ Not his face, sor. ’Twas too dark.” 

“Was there— -Kiid he look like anybody you knew, or had seen?— 
anybody in the command ?” 

“ Well, sor, not among the men, that is. There’s none so tall and 
slim both, and so light. Sure he must ’a’ worn gums, sor. You 
wouldn’t hear the whisper of a footfall.” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


191 


“ But whom did he seem to resemble ?” 

Well, if the captain will forgive me, sor, it^s un will in’ I am to 
say the worrd, but there’s no one that tall and light and slim here, sor, 
but Loot’nant Jerrold. Sure it couldn’t be him, sor.” 

“ Leary, will you promise me something on your word as a man ?” 

"I will, sor.” 

Say not one word of this matter to any one, except I tell you, or 
you have to, before a court.” 

I promise, sor.” 

“ And I believe you. Tell the sergeant I will soon be back.” 

With that he turned and walked down the road until once more 
he came to the plank crossing and the passage-way between the colonel’s 
and Bachelors’ Row. Here again he stopped short, and waited with 
bated breath and scarcely-beating heart. The faint light he had seen 
before again illumined the room and cast its gleam upon the old gray 
wall. Even as he gazed, there came silently to the window a tall, 
white-robed form, and a slender white hand seized and lowered the 
shade, noiselessly. Then, as before, the light faded away; but — she 
was awake. 

Waiting one moment in silence, Captain Chester then sprang up the 
wooden steps and passed under the piazza which ran the length of the 
bachelor quarters. Half-way down the row he turned sharply to his 
left, opened the green-painted door, and stood in a little dark hall-way. 
Taking his match-box from his pocket, he struck a light, and by its 
glare quickly read the card upon the first door-way to his right ; 

“Me. Howaed F. Jerrold, 

“ th Infantry, U.S.A.^* 

Opening this door, he bolted straight through the little parlor to 
the bedroom in the rear. A dim light was burning on the mantel. 
The bed was unruffled, untouched, and Mr. Jerrold was not there. 

Five minutes afterwards. Captain Chester, all alone, had laboriously 
and cautiously dragged the ladder from the side to the rear of the 
colonel’s house, stretched it in the roadway where he had first stumbled 
upon it, then returned to the searching-party on Number Five.” 

Send two men to put that ladder back,” he ordered. It is where 
T told you, — on the road behind the colonel’s.” 


192 


FROM THE RANKS, 


III. 

'VYhen Mrs. Maynard came to Sibley in May and the officers with 
their wives were making their welcoming call, she had with motherly 
pride and pleasure yielded to their constant importunities and shown to 
one party after another an album of photographs, — likenesses of her 
only daughter. There were little cartes de visile representing her in 
long dresses and baby-caps ; quaint little pictures of a chubby-faced, 
chubby-legged infant a few months older ; charming studies of a little 
girl with great black eyes and delicate features ; then of a tall, slender 
slip of a maiden, decidedly foreign-looking ; then of a sweet and pensive 
face, with great dark eyes, long, beautiful curling lashes, and very heavy, 
low-arched brows, exquisitely moulded mouth and chin, and most luxu- 
riant dark hair ; then others, still older, in every variety of dress, — even 
in fancy costume, such as the girl had worn at fair or masquerade. 
These and others still had Mrs. Maynard shown them, with repressed 
pride and pleasure and with sweet acknowledgment of their enthusiastic 
praises. Alice still tarried in the East, visiting relatives whom she had 
not seen since her father’s death three years earlier, and, long before she 
came to join her mother at Sibley and to enter upon the life she so 
eagerly looked forward to, “’way out in the West, you know, with 
officers and soldiers and the band, and buftalo and Indians all around 
you,” there was not an officer or an officer’s wife who had not delight- 
edly examined that album. There was still another picture, but that 
one had been shown to only a chosen few just one week after her daugh- 
ter’s arrival, and rather an absurd scene had occurred, in which that 
most estimable officer. Lieutenant Sloat, had figured as the hero. A 
more simple-minded, well-intentioned fellow than Sloat there did not 
live. He was so full of kindness and good nature and readiness to do 
anything for anybody that it never seemed to occur to him that every- 
body on earth was not just as ready to be equally accommodating. He 
was a perpetual source of delight to the colone’^ and one of the most loyal 
and devoted of subalterns, despite the fact that his locks were long sil- 
vered with the frosts of years and that he had fought through the war 
of the rebellion and risen to the rank of a field-officer in Maynard’s old 
brigade. The most temperate of men, ordinarily, the colonel had one 
anniversary he loved to celebrate, and Sloat was his stand-by when the 


FROM THE BANKS. 


193 


3d of July came round, just as he had been at his shoulder at that 
supreme moment when, heedless of the fearful sweep of shell and canis- 
ter through their shattered ranks, Pickett’s heroic Virginians breasted 
the slope of Cemetery Hill and surged over the low stone wall into 
Cushing’s guns. Hard, stubborn fighting had Maynard’s men to do 
that day, and for serene courage and determination no man had beaten 
Sloat. Both officers had bullet-hole mementos to carry from that 
field ; both had won their brevets for conspicuous gallantry, and Sloat 
was a happy and grateful man when, years afterwards, his old com- 
mander secured him a lieutenancy in the regular service. He was the 
colonel’s henchman, although he never had brains enough to win a place 
on the regimental staff, and when Mrs. Maynard came he overwhelmed 
her with cumbrous compliments and incessant calls. He was, to his 
confident belief, her chosen and accepted knight for full two days after 
her arrival. Then Jerrold came back from a brief absence, and, as in 
duty bound, went to pay his respects to his colonel’s wife; and that 
night there had been a singular scene. Mrs. Maynard had stopped 
suddenly in her laughing chat with two ladies, had started from her 
seat, wildly staring at the tall, slender subaltern who entered the gate- 
way, and then fell back in her chair, fairly swooning as he made his bow. 

Sloat had rushed into the house to call the colonel and get some 
water, while Mr. Jerrold stood paralyzed at so strange a reception of 
his first call. Mrs. Maynard revived presently, explained that it was 
her heart, or the heat, or something, and the ladies on their way home 
decided that it was possibly the heart, it was certainly not the heat, it 
was unquestionably something, and that something was Mr. Jerrold, 
for she never took her eyes off him during the entire evening, and 
seemed unable to shake off the fascination. Next day Jerrold dined 
there, and from that time on he was a daily visitor. Every one noted 
Mrs. Maynard’s strong interest in him, but no one could account for it. 
She was old enough to be his mother, said the garrison ; but not until 
Alice Kenwick came did another consideration appear : he was singu- 
larly like the daughter. Both were tall, lithe, slender ; both had dark, 
lustrous eyes, dark, though almost perfect, skin, exquisitely-chiselled 
features, and slender, shapely hands and feet. Alice was the picture 
of her father,” said Mrs. Maynard, and Mr. Benwick had lived all his 
life in New York; while Mr. Jerrold was of an old Southern family, 
and his mother a Cuban beauty who was the toast of the New Orleans 
clubs not many years before the war. 

I 17 


194 


FROM THE RANKS. 


Poor Sloat ! He did not fancy Jerrold, and was as jealous as so 
unselfish a mortal could be of the immediate ascendency the young 
fellow established in the colonefs household. It was bad enough be- 
fore Alice joined them ; after that it was wellnigh unbearable. Then 
came the 3d-of-July dinner and the colonePs one annual jollification. 
No man ever heard of Sloat’s being intoxicated ; he rarely drank at 
all ; but this evening the reminiscences of the day, the generous wine, 
the unaccustomed elegance of all his surroundings, due to Mrs. May- 
nard’s taste and supervision, and the influence of Alice Renwick’s 
exquisite beauty, had fairly carried him away. 

They were chatting in the parlor, while Miss Renwick was enter- 
taining some young-lady friends from town and listening to the band 
on the parade. Sloat was expatiating on her grace and beauty and 
going over the album for the twentieth time, when the colonel, with a 
twinkling eye, remarked to Mrs. Maynard, — 

I think you ought to show Major* Sloat the ‘ Directoire’ picture, 
my dear.” 

Alice would never forgive me,” said madame, laughing ; though 
I consider it the most beautiful we have of her.” 

Oh, where is it ?” “ Oh, do let us see it, Mrs. Maynard !” was 

the chorus of exclamations from the few ladies present. Oh, I indst 
on seeing it, madame,” was Sloat’s characteristic contribution to the 
clamor. 

I want you to understand it,” said Mrs. Maynard, pleased, but 
still hesitating. We are very daft about Alice at home, you know, 
and it’s quite a wonder she has not been utterly spoiled by her aunts 
and uncles ; but this picture was a specialty. An artist friend of ours 
fairly made us have it taken in the wedding-dress worn by her grand- 
mother. You know the Josephine Beauharnais ‘Directoire’ style 
that was worn in seventeen ninety-something. Her neck and shoul- 
ders are lovely, and that was why we consented. I went, and so did 
the artist, and we posed her, and the photograph is simply perfect of 
her face, and neck too, but when Alice saw it she blushed furiously 
and forbade my having them finished. Afterwards, though, she 
yielded when her aunt Kate and I begged so hard and promised that 

* By act of Congress, officers may be addressed by the title of the highest 
rank held by them in the volunteer service during the war. The colonel always 
punctiliously so addressed his friend and subordinate, although in the army his 
grade was simply that of first lieutenant. 


FROM THE RANKS, 


195 


lone should be given away, and so just half a dozen wore finished, 
indeed, the dress is by no means as dtcolldt as many girls wear theirs 
it dinner now in New York ; but poor Alice was scandalized when she 
jaw it last month, and she never would let me put one in the album.” 

Oh, do go and get it, Mrs. Maynard !” pleaded the ladies. Oh, 
olease let me see it, Mrs. Maynard !” added Sloat ; and at last the 
nother-pride prevailed. Mrs. Maynard rustled up-stairs, and presently 
returned holding in her hands a delicate silver frame in filigree-work, 
1 quaint foreign affair, and enclosed therein was a cabinet photograph 
m vignettBy — the head, neck, and shoulders of a beautiful girl ; and the 
dainty, diminutive, what- there- was-of-it waist of the old-fashioned gown, 
sashed almost immediately under the exquisite bust, revealed quite 
materially the cause of Alice E-enwick’s blushes. But a more beauti- 
ful portrait was never photographed. The women fairly gasped with 
delight and envy. Sloat could not restrain his impatience to get it in 
his own hands, and finally he grasped it and then eyed it in rapture. 
It was two minutes before he spoke a word, while the colonel sat laugh-: 
ing at his worshipping gaze. Mrs. Maynard somewhat uneasily stretched 
forth her hand, and the other ladies impatiently strove to regain posses- 
sion. 

Come, Major Sloat, you’ve surely had it long enough. We want 
it again.” 

Never !” said Sloat, with melodramatic intensity. “ Never ! This 
is my ideal of perfection, — of divinity in woman. I will bear it home 
with me, set it above my fireside, and adore it day and night.” 

Nonsense, Major Sloat !” said Mrs. Maynard, laughing, yet far 
from being at her ease. Come, I must take it back. Alice may be in 
any minute now, and if she knew I had betrayed her she would never 
forgive me. Come, surrender !” And she strove to take it from him. 

But Sloat was in one of his utterly asinine moods. He would have 
been perfectly willing to give any sum he possessed for so perfect a 
picture as this. He never dreamed that there were good and sufficient 
reasons why no man should have it. He so loved and honored his 
colonel that he was ready to lay down his life for any of his household. 
In laying claim to this picture he honestly believed that it was the 
highest proof he could give of his admiration and devotion. A tame 
surrender now meant that his protestations were empty words. There- 
fore,” argued Sloat, I must stand firm.” 


196 


FROM THE RANKS. 


Madame,” said he, I^d die first.” And with that he began back- 
ing to the door. 

Alarmed now, Mrs. Maynard sprang after him, and the little major 
leaped upon a chair, his face aglow, jolly, rubicund, beaming with bliss 
and triumph. She looked up, almost wringing her hands, and turned 
half appealingly to the colonel, who was laughing heartily on the sofa, 
never dreaming Sloat could be in earnest. 

^^Here, I’ll give you back the frame: I don’t want that,” said 
Sloat, and began fumbling at the back of the photograph. This was 
too much for the ladies. They, too, rushed to the rescue. One of 
them sprang to and shut the door, the other seized and violently shook 
the back of his chair, and Sloat leaped to the floor, still clinging to his 
prize, and laughing as though he had never had so much entertainment 
in his life. The long Venetian windows opened upon the piazza, and 
towards the nearest one he retreated, holding aloft the precious gage and 
waving off the attacking party with the other hand. He was within 
I yard of the blinds, when they were suddenly thrown open, a tall, 
slender form stepped quickly in, one hand seized the uplifted wrist, the 
other the picture, and in far less time than it takes to tell it Mr. Jerrold 
had wrenched it away and, with quiet bow, restored it to its rightful 
owner. 

‘‘Oh, I say, now, Jerrold, that’s downright unhandsome of you I” 
gasped Sloat. “ I’d have been on my way home with it.” 

“ Shut up, you fool !” was the sharp, hissing whisper. “ Wait till 
I go home, if you want to talk about it.” And, as quickly as he came, 
Mr. Jerrold slipped out again upon the piazza. 

Of course the story was told with varied comment all over the post. 
Several officers were injudicious enough to chaff the old subaltern about 
it, and — he was a little sore-headed the next day, anyway — the usually 
placid Sloat grew the more indignant at Jerrold. He decided to go 
and upbraid him ; and, as ill luck would have it, they met before noon 
on the steps of the club-room. 

“ I want to say to you, Mr. Jerrold, that from an officer of your 
age to one of mine I think your conduct last night a piece of imperti- 
nence.” 

“ I had a perfect right to do what I did,” replied Jerrold, coolly. 
“You were taking a most unwarrantable liberty in trying to carry off 
that picture.” 

“ How did you know what it was ? You had never seen it !” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


197 


There’s yhere you are mistaken, Mr. Sloat” (and Jerrold purposely 
and exasperathigly refused to recognize the customary brevet ) : I had 
seen it, — fluently.” 

Two onicers were standing by, and one of them turned sharply and 
faced Jeyrold as he spoke. It was his former company commander. 
Jerrold noted the symptom, and flushed, but set his teeth doggedly. 

‘<\yhy, Mr. Jerrold! Mrs. Maynard said she never showed that to 
any one,” said Sloat, in much surprise. You heard her, did you not, 
Captain Chester?” 

‘‘I did, certainly,” was the reply. 

All the same, I repeat what I’ve said,” was Jerrold’s sullen 

answer. I have seen it frequently, and, what’s more ” He 

suddenly stopped. 

Well, what’s more?” said Sloat, suggestively. 

Never mind. I don’t care to talk of the matter,” replied Jerrold, 
and started to walk away. 

But Sloat was angry, nettled, jealous. He had meant to shqw hia 
intense loyalty and admiration for everything that was his colonel 
and had been snubbed and called a fool by an officer many years, 
though not so many “ files,” his junior. He never had liked him, and 
now there was an air of conscious superiority about Jerrold that fairly 
exasperated him. He angrily followed and called to him to stop, but 
Jerrold walked on. Captain Chester stood still and watched them. 
The little man had almost to run before he overtook the tall one. 
They were out of earshot when he finally did so. There were a few 
words on both sides. Then Jerrold shifted his light cane into his left 
hand, and Chester started forward, half expecting a fracas. To his 
astonishment, the two officers shook hands and parted. 

Well,” said he, as Sloat came back with an angry yet bewildered 
face, ^H’m glad you shook hands. I almost feared a row, and was 
just going to stop it. So he apologized, did he?” 

No, nothing like it.” 

Then what did you mean by shaking hands ?” 

That’s nothing — never you mind,” said Sloat, confusedly. I 
haven’t forgiven him, by a good deal. The man’s conceit is enough to 
disgust anything — but a woman, I suppose,” he finished, ruefully. 

Well, it’s none of my business, Sloat, but pardon my saying I 
don’t see what there was to bring about the apparent reconciliation. 
That hand-shake meant something.” 

17 * 


198 


FROM THE BANKS. 


Oh, well — dama it ! we had some words, and he — I Well, 

there^s a bet, and we shook hands on it.’^ 

Seems to me that^s pretty serious business, Sloat, — a bet follow- 
ing such a talk as you two have had. I hope ” 

Well, captain,” interrupted Sloat, I wouldn’t have dohe it if I 
hadn’t been mad as blazes ; but I made it, and must stick to it, -h— that’s 
all.” 

You wouldn’t mind telling me what it was, I suppose ?” 

I can’t ; and that ends it.” 

Captain Chester found food for much thought and speculation over 
this incident. So far as he was concerned, the abrupt remark of Sloat 
by no means ended it. In his distrust of Jerrold, he too had taken 
alarm at the very substantial intimacy to which that young man wi^ 
welcomed at the colonel’s quarters. Prior to his marriage old Maynar^^ 
had not liked him at all, but it was mainly because he had been so^ 
negligent of his duties and so determined a beau in city society after ^ 
his arrival at Sibley. He had, indeed, threatened to have him trans- 
ferred to a company still on frontier service if he did not reform ; but 
then the rifle-practice season began, and Jerrold was a capital shot and 
sure to be on the list of competitors for the Department team, so what \ 
was the use ? He would be ordered in for the rifle-camp anyway, and 
so the colonel decided to keep him at head-quarters. This was in the 
summer of the year gone by. Then came the colonel’s long leave, 
his visit to Europe, his meeting with his old friend, now the widow of 
the lamented Renwick, their delightful winter together in Italy, his 
courtship, her consent, their marriage and return to America. When 
Maynard came back to Sibley and the old regiment, he was so jolly and 
content that every man was welcomed at his house, and it was really a 
source of pride and pleasure to him that his accomplished wife should 
find any of his young officers so thoroughly agreeable as she pronounced 
Mr. Jerrold. Others were soldierly, courteous, well bred, but he had 
the air of a foreign court about him, she privately informed her lord ; 
and it seems, indeed, that in days gone by Mr. Jerrold’s father had 
spent many years in France and Spain, once as his country’s represen- 
tative near the throne. Though the father died long before the boy 
was out of his knickerbockers, he had left the impress of his grand 
manner, and Jerrold, to women of any age; was at once a couilier and 
a knight. But the colonel never saw how her eyes followed the tall 
young officer time and again. There were women who soon noted it, 


FROM THE RANKS. 


199 


and one of them said it was such a yearning, longing look. Was Mrs. 
Maynard really happy ? they asked each other. Did she really want 
to see Alice mate with him, the handsome, the dangerous, the selfish 
fellow they knew him to be ? If not, could anything be more impru- 
dent than that they should be thrown together as they were being, day 
after day? Had Alice wealth of her own? If not, did the mother 
know that nothing would tempt Howard Jerrold into an alliance with 
a dowerless daughter? These, and many more, were questions that 
came up every day. The garrison could talk of little else ; and Alice 
Renwick had been there just three weeks, and was the acknowledged 
Queen of Hearts at Sibley, when the rifle-competitions began again, 
and a great array of officers and men from all over the Northwest came 
to the post by every train, and their canvas tents dotted the broad 
prairie to the north. 

One lovely evening in August, just before the practice began. Col- 
onel Maynard took his wife to drive out and see the camp. Mr. Jer- 
rold and Alice Renwick followed on horseback. The carriage was 
surrounded as it halted near the range, and half a score of officers, old 
and young, were chatting with Mrs. Maynard, while others gathered 
about the lovely girl who sat there in the saddle. There came march- 
ing up from the railway a small squad of soldiers, competitors arriving 
from the far tV^est. Among them — apparently their senior non-com- 
missioned officer — was a tall cavalry sergeant, superbly built, and with 
a bronzed and bearded and swarthy face that seemed to tell of years of 
campaigning over mountain and prairie. They were all men of perfect 
physique, all in the neat, soldierly fatigue-dress of the regular service, 
some wearing the spotless white stripes of the infantry, others the less 
artistic and equally destructible yellow of the cavalry. Their swinging 
stride, erect carriage, and clear and handsome eyes all spoke of the per- 
fection of health and soldierly development. Curious glances were 
turned to them as they advanced, and Miss Renwick, catching sight of 
the party, exclaimed, — 

Oh, who are these ? And what a tall soldier that sergeant is 

That sergeant. Miss Renwick,” said a slow, deliberate voice, is 
the man I believe will knock Mr. Jerrold out of the first prize. That 
is Sergeant McLeod.” 

As though he heard his name pronounced, the tall cavalryman 
glanced for the first time at the group, brought his rifle to the carry | 


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as if about to salute, and was just stepping upon the roadside, where 
he came in full view of the occupants of the carriage, when a sudden 
pallor shot across his face, and he plunged heavily forward and went 
down like a shot. Sympathetic officers and comrades surrounded the 
prostrate form in an instant. The colonel himself sprang from his 
carriage and joined the group ; a blanket was quickly brought from a 
neighboring tent, and the sergeant was borne thither and laid upon a 
cot. A surgeon felt his pulse and looked inquiringly around : 

Any of you cavalrymen know him well ? Has he been affected 
this way before 

A young corporal who had been bending anxiously over the sergeant 
straightened up and saluted ; 

I know him well, sir, and have been with him five years. He’s 
only had one sick spell in all that time, — ’twas just like this, — and then 
he told me he’d been sunstruck once.” 

This is no case of sunstroke,” said the doctor. It looks more 
like the heart. How long ago was the attack you speak of?” 

Three years ago last April, sir. I remember it because we’d just 
got into Fort Raines after a long scout. He’d been the solidest man in 
the troop all through the cold and storm and snow we had in the 
mountains, and we were in the reading-room, and he’d picked up a 
newspaper and was reading while the rest of us were talking and 
laughing, and, first thing we knew, he was down on the floor, just like 
he was to-night.” 

Hm !” said the surgeon. Yes. That’s plenty, steward. Give 
him that. Raise his head a little, corporal. Now he’ll come round 
all right.” 

Driving homeward that night. Colonel Maynard musingly re- 
marked, — 

Did you see that splendid fellow who fainted away ?” 

No,” answered his wife, “ you all gathered about him so quickly 
and carried him away. I could not even catch a glimpse of him. 
But he had recovered, had he not?” 

Yes. Still, I was thinking what a singular fact it is that occa- 
sionally a man slips through the surgeon’s examinations with such a 
malady as this. Now, here is one of the finest athletes and shots in 
the whole army, a man who has been through some hard service and 
stirring fights, has won a tip-top name for himself and was on the 
highroad to a commission, and yet this will block him efiectually.” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


201 


Why, what is the trouble ?” 

‘‘Some aifection of the heart. Why! Halloo I Stop, driver’* 
Orderly, jump down and run back there. Mrs. Maynard has dropped 
her fan. — What was it, dear?^^ he asked, anxiously. “You started; 
and you are white, and trembling.” 

“ I — I don’t know, colonel. Let us go home. It will be over in 
a minute. Where are Alice and Mr. Jerrold? Call them, please. 
She must not be out riding after dark.’' 

But they were not in sight; and it was considerably after dark 
when they reached the fort. Mr. Jerrold explained that his horse had 
picked up a stone and he had had to walk him all the way, 

IV. 

There was no sleep for Captain Chester the rest of the night. He 
went home, threw off his sword-belt, and seated himself in a big easy- 
chair before his fireplace, deep in thought. Once or twice he arose and 
paced restlessly up and down the room, as he had done in his excited 
talk with Rollins some few hours before. Then he was simply angry 
and argumentative, — or declamatory. How he had settled down into 
a very different frame of mind. He seemed awed, — stunned, — crushed. 
He had all the bearing and mien of one who, having defiantly pre- 
dicted a calamity, was thunderstruck by the verification of his prophecy. 
In all his determined arraignment of Mr. Jerrold, in all the harsh 
things he had said and thought of him, he had never imagined any 
such depth of scoundrelism as the revelations of the night foreshadowed. 
Chester differed from many of his brotherhood : there was no room for 
rejoicing in his heart that the worst he had ever said of Jerrold was 
unequal to the apparent truth. He took no comfort to his soul that 
those who called him cynical, crabbed, unjust, even malicious, would 
now be compelled to admit he was right in his estimate. Like the best 
of us, Chester could not ordinarily say “ Vade rdrd^ to the temptation 
to think, if not to say, “ Didn’t I tell you so ?” when in every-day 
affairs his oft-disputed views were proved well founded. But in the 
face of such a catastrophe as now appeared engulfing the fair fame of 
his regiment and the honor of those whom his colonel held dear, 
Chester could feel only dismay and grief. What was his duty in the 
"'light of the discoveries he had made? To the best of his belief, he 
was the only man in the garrison who had evidence of Jerrold’s 
absence from his own quarters and of the presence of some one at her 
1 * 


202 


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window. He had taken prompt measures to prevent its being sus- 
pected by others. He purposely sent his guards to search along the 
cliff in the opposite direction while he went to Jerrold’s room and 
thence back to remove the tell-tale ladder. Should he tell any one 
until he had confronted Jerrold with the evidences of his guilt, and, 
wringing from him his resignation, send him far from the post before 
handing it in ? Time and again he wished Frank Armitage were here. 
The youngest captain in the regiment, Armitage had been for years its 
adjutant and deep in the confidence of Colonel Maynard. He was a 
thorough soldier, a strong, self-reliant, courageous man, and one for 
whom Chester had ever felt a warm esteem. Armitage was on leave 
of absence, however, — had been away some time on account of family 
matters, and would not return, it was known, until he had effected the 
removal of his mother and sister to the new home he had purchased 
for them in the distant East. It was to his company that Jerrold had 
been promoted, and there was friction from the very week that the 
handsome subaltern joined. 

Armitage had long before taken his measure,” and was in no wise 
pleased that so lukewarm a soldier should have come to him as senior 
subaltern. They had a very plain talk, for Armitage was straight- 
forward as a dart, and then, as Jerrold showed occasional lapses, the 
captain shut down on some of his most cherished privileges, and, 
to the indignation of society, the failure of Mr. Jerrold to appear at 
one or two gatherings where he was confidently expected was speedily 
laid at his captain’s door. The recent death of his father kept Armi- 
tage from appearing in public, and, as neither he nor the major (who 
commanded the regiment while Maynard was abroad) votrohsafed the 
faintest explanation, society was allowed to form its own conclusions, 
and did , — to the effect that Mr. Jerrold was a wronged and persecuted 
man. It was just as the Maynards arrived at Sibley that Armitage 
departed on his leave, and, to his unspeakable bliss, Mr. Jerrold suc- 
ceeded to the command of his company. This fact, coupled with the 
charming relations which were straightway established with the colonel’s 
family, placed him in a position of independence and gave him oppor- 
tunities he had never known before. It was speedily evident that he 
was neglecting his military duties, — that Company B was running 
down much faster than Armitage had built it up, — ^and yet no man felt 
like speaking of it to the colonel, who saw it only occasionally on dress- 
mmde. Chester had just about determined to write to Armitage him- 


FROM THE RANKS. 


203 


Relf and suggest his speedy return, when this eventful night arrived. 
Now he fully made up his mind that it must be done at once, and had 
seated himself at his desk, when the roar of the sunrise gun and the 
blare of the bugles warned him that reveille had come and he must again 
go to his guard. Before he returned to his quarters another complica- 
tion, even more embarrassing, had arisen, and the letter to Armitage 
was postponed. 

He had received the present’^ of his guard and verified the pres- 
ence of all his prisoners, when he saw Major Sloat still standing out in 
the middle of the parade, where the adjutant usually received the re- 
ports of the roll-calls. Several company officers, having made their 
reports, were scurrying back to quarters for another snooze before break- 
fast-time or to get their cup of coffee before going out to the range. 
Chester strolled over towards him. 

What’s the matter, Sloat?” 

‘‘Nothing much. The colonel told me to receive the reveille re- 
ports for Hoyt this week. He’s on general court-martial.” 

“Yes, I know all that. I mean, what are you waiting for?” 

“ Mr. Jerrold again. There’s no report from his company.” 

“ Have you sent to wake him ?” 

“ No ; I’ll go myself, and do it thoroughly, too.” And the little 
major turned sharply away and walked direct to the low range of 
bachelor quarters, dove under the piazza, and into the green door- 
way. 

Hardly knowing how to explain his action, Chester quickly fol- 
lowed, and in less than a minute was standing in the self-same parlor 
which, by the light of a flickering match, he had searched two hours 
before. Here he halted and listened, while Sloat pushed on into the 
bedroom and was heard vehemently apostrophizing some sleeper ; 

“ Does the government pay you for this sort of thing, I want to 
know? Get up, Jerrold I This is the second time you’ve cut reveille 
in ten days. Get up, I say !” And the major was vigorously shaking 
at something, for the bed creaked and groaned. 

“ Wake up ! I say, I’m blowed if I’m going to get up here day 
after day and have you sleeping. Wake, Nicodemus ! Wake, you 
snoozing, snoring, open-mouthed masher. Come, now ; I mean it.” 

A drowsy, disgusted yawn and stretch finally rewarded his efforts. 
Mr. Jerrold at last opened his eyes, rolled over, yawned sulkily again. 


204 


FROM THE RANKS. 


and tried to evade his persecutor, but to no purpose. Like a little 
terrier, Sloat hung on to him and worried and shook. 

“ Oh, don’t ! damn it, don’t !” growled the victim. “ What do you 
want, anyway ? Has that infernal reveille gone ?” 

Yes, and you’re absent again, and no report from B Company. 
By the holy poker, if you don’t turn out and get it and report to me 
on the parade I’ll spot the whole gang absent, and then no mating for 
you to-day, my buck. Come, out with you ! I mean it. Hall says 
you and he have an engagement in town ; and ’pon my soul I’ll bust 
it if you don’t come out.” 

And so, growling and complaining, and yet half laughing, Adonis 
rolled from his couch and began to get into his clothes. Chester’s 
blood ran cold, then boiled. Think of a man who could laugh like 
that, — ^and remember! Wheriy how, had he returned to the house? 
Listen ! 

“ Confound you, Sloat, I wouldn’t rout you out in this shabby way. 
Why couldn’t you let a man sleep ? I’m tired half to death.” 

What have you done to tire you ? Slept all yesterday afternoon, 
and danced perhaps a dozen times at the doctor’s last night. You’ve 
had more sleep than I’ve had, begad ! You took Miss Ben wick home 
before ’twas over, and mean it was of you, too, with all the fellows 
that wanted to dance with her.” 

That wasn’t my fault : Mrs. Maynard made her promise to be 
home at twelve. You old cackler, that’s what sticks in your crop 
yet. You are persecuting me because they like me so much better than 
they do you,” he went on, laughingly now. Come, now, Sloat, con- 
fess, it is all because you’re jealous. You couldn’t have that picture, 
and I could.” 

Chester fairly started. He had urgent need to see this young 
gallant, — he was staying for that purpose, — but should he listen to 
further talk like this ? Too late to move, for Sloat’s answer came like 
a shot : 

I bet you you neter could !” 

Bin didn’t I tell you I had ? — a week ago ?” 

Ay, but I didn’t believe it. You couldn’t show it!” 

Pshaw, man ! Look here. Stop, though I Bemember, on ycmr 
honor y you never tell.” 

On my honor, of course.” 

«Well, there!” 


FROM TUB BANKS. 


205 


A drawer was opened. Chester heard a gulp of dismay, of genuine 
astonishment and conviction mixed, as SI oat muttered some half-articu- 
late words and then came into the front room. Jerrold followed, caught 
sight of Chester, and stopped short, with sudden and angry change of 
color. 

I did not know you were here,’’ he said. 

It was to find where you were that I came,” was the quiet answer. 

There was a moment’s silence. Sloat turned and looked at the 
two men in utter surprise. Up to this time he had considered Jerrold’s 
absence from reveille as a mere dereliction of duty which was ascriba- 
ble to the laziness and indifference of the young officer. So far as 
lay in his power, he meant to make him attend more strictly to busi- 
ness, and had therefore come to his quarters and stirred him up. But 
there was no thought of any serious trouble in his mind. His talk 
had all been roughly good-humored until — until that bet was men- 
tioned, and then it became earnest. Now, as he glanced from one man 
to the other, he saw in an instant that something new — something of 
unusual gravity — was impending. Chester, buttoned to the throat in 
his dark uniform, accurately gloved and belted, with pale, set, almost 
haggard face, was standing by the centre-table under the drop-light. 
Jerrold, only half dressed, his feet thrust into slippers, his fingers 
nervously working at the studs of his dainty white shirt, had stopped 
short at his bedroom door, and, with features that grew paler every 
second and a dark scowl on his brow, was glowering at Chester. 

“ Since when has it been the duty of the officer of the day to come 
around and hunt up officers who don’t happen to be out at reveille ?” 
he asked. 

It is not your absence from reveille I want explained, Mr. Jerrold,” 
was the cold and deliberate answer. I wanted you at 3.30 this morn- 
ing, and you were not and had not been here.” 

An unmistakable start and shock ; a quick, nervous, hunted glance 
around the room, so cold and pallid in the early light of the August 
morning; a clutch of Jerrold’s slim brown hand at the bared throat. 
But he rallied gamely, strode a step forward, and looked liis superior 
full in the face. Sloat marked the effort with which he cleared awa}' 
the huskiness that seemed to clog his larynx, but admired the spunk 
with which the young officer returned the senior’s shot : 

What is your authority here, I would like to know ? What 
business has the officer of the day to want me or any other man not on 

18 


206 


FROM THE BANKS. 


guard ? Captain CLester, you seem to forget that I am no longer your 
second lieutenant, and that I am a company commander like yourself. 
Do you come by Colonel Maynard’s order to search my quarters and 
question me? If so, say so at once; if not, get out.” And Jerrold’s 
face was growing black with w'rath, and liis big lustrous eyes were wide 
awake now and fairly snapping. 

Chester leaned upon the table and deliberated a moment. He stood 
there coldly, distrustfully eying the excited lieutenant, then turned to 
Sloat : 

I will be responsible for the roll-call of Company B this morning, 
Sloat. I have a matter of grave importance to bring up to this — this 
gentleman, and it is of a private nature. Will you let me see him 
alone ?” 

Sloat,” said Jerrold, don’t go yet. I want you to stay. These 
are my quarters, and I recognize your right to come here in search of 
me, since I was not at reveille ; but I want a witness here to bear me 
out. I’m too amazed yet — too confounded by this intrusion of Captain 
Chester’s to grasp the situation. I never heard of such a thing as this. 
Explain it, if you can.” 

“ Mr. Jerrold, what I have to ask or say to you concerns you alone. 
It is not an official matter. It is as man to man I want to see you, 
alone and at once. Now will you let Major Sloat retire ?” 

Silence for a moment. The angry flush on Jerrold’s face was dying 
away, and in its place an ashen pallor was spreading from throat to 
brow ; his lips were twitching ominously. Sloat looked in consterna- 
tion at the sudden change. 

Shall I go ?” he finally asked. 

Jerrold looked long, fixedly, searchingly in the set face of the officer 
of the day, breathing hard and heavily. What he saw there Sloat could 
not imagine. At last his hand dropped by his side ; he made a little 
motion with it, a slight wave towards the door, and again dropped it 
nervously. His lips seemed to frame the word Go,” but he never 
glanced at the man whom a moment before he so masterfully bade to 
stay ; and Sloat, sorely puzzled, left the room. 

Not until his footsteps had died out of hearing did Chester speak : 

“ How soon can you leave the post ?” 

I don’t understand you.” 

“How soon can you pack up what you need to take and — get 
away ?” 


FROM THE BANKS. 


207 


Get away where ? What on earth do you mean 

You miLst know what I mean ! You must know that after last 
night’s work you quit the service at once and forever.” 

“ I don’t know anything of the kind ; and I defy you to prove the 
faintest thing.” But Jerrold’s fingers were twitching, and his eyes had 
lost their light. 

Do you suppose I did not recognize you ?” asked Chester. 

“ When ? — where ?” gulped Jerrold. 

When I seized you and you struck me !” 

I never struck you. I don’t know what you mean.” 

My God, man, let us end this useless fencing. The evidence I 
have of your last night’s scoundrelism would break the strongest record. 
For the regiment’s sake, — for the colonel’s sake, — let us have no public 
scandal. It’s awful enough as the thing stands. Write your resignation, 
give it to me, and leave, — before breakfast if you can.” 

I’ve done nothing to resign for. You know perfectly well I 
haven’t.” 

Do you mean that such a crime — that a woman’s ruin and disgrace 
— isn’t enough to drive you from the service ?” asked Chester, tingling 
in every nerve and longing to clinch the shapely, swelling throat in his 
clutching fingers. God of heaven, Jerrold ! are you dead to all sense 
of decency?” 

Captain Chester, I won’t be bullied this way. I may not be im- 
maculate, but no man on earth shall talk to me like this ! I deny your 
insinuations. I’ve done nothing to warrant your words, even if — if you 
did come sneaking around here last night and find me absent. You 
can’t prove a thing. You ” 

What ! When I saw you, — almost caught you ! By heaven ! 
I wish the sentry had killed you then and there. I never dreamed of 
such hardihood.” 

You’ve done nothing but dream. By Jove, I believe you’re sleep- 
walking yet. What on earth do you mean by catching and killing me ? 
’Pon my soul I reckon you’re crazy. Captain Chester.” And color was 
gradually coming back again to Jerrold’s face, and confidence to his 
tone. 

Enough of this, Mr. Jerrold. Knowing what you and I both 
know, do you refuse to hand me your resignation ?” 

“ Of course I do.” 

Do you mean to deny to me where I saw you last night ?” 


208 


FROM THE RANKS, 


" I deny your right to question me. I deny anything, — everything, 
I believe you simply thought you had a clue and could make me tell. 
Suppose I was out last night. I don’t believe you know the faintest 
thing about it.” 

‘‘ Do you want me to report the whole thing to the colonel ?” 

course I don’t. Naturally, I want him to know nothing 
about my being out of quarters ; and it’s a thing that no officer would 
tliink of reporting another for. You’ll only win the contempt of ever}' 
gentleman in the regiment if you do it. What good will it do you ? — 
Keep me from going to town for a few days, I suppose. What earthly 
business is it of yours, anyway ?” 

Jerrold, I can stand this no longer. I ought to shoot you in your 
tracks, I believe. You’ve brought ruin and misery to the home of my 
warmest friend, and dishonor to the whole service, and you talk of two 
or three days’ stoppage from going to town. If I can’t bring you to 
your senses, by God ! the colonel shall.” And he wheeled and left the 
room. 

For a moment Jerrold stood stunned and silent. It was useless to 
attempt reply. The captain was far down the walk when he sprang to 
the door to call him again. Then, hurrying back to the bedroom, he 
hastily dressed, muttering angrily and anxiously to himself as he did 
so. He was thinking deeply, too, and every movement betrayed ner- 
vousness and trouble. Returning to the front door, he gazed out upon 
the parade, then took his forage-cap and walked rapidly down towards 
the adjutant’s office. The orderly bugler was tilted up in a chair, lean- 
ing half asleep against the whitewashed front, but his was a weasel nap, 
ffir he sprang up and saluted as the young officer approached. 

“ Where did Major Sloat go, orderly ?” was the hurried question. 

“Over towards the stables, sir. Him and Captain Chester was 
here together, and they’re just gone.” 

“ Run over to the quarters of B Company and tell Merrick I want 
him right away. Tell him to come to my quarters.” And thither Mr. 
J errold returned, seated himself at his desk, wrote several lines of a note, 
tore it into fragments, began again, wrote another which seemed not en- 
tirely satisfactory, and was in the midst of a third when there came a 
quick step and a knock at the door. Opening the shutters, he glanced 
out of the window. A gust of wind sent some of the papers whirling 
and flying, and the bedroom door banged shut, but not before some few 
half-sheets of paper had fluttered out upon the parade, where other little 


FROM THE RANKS. 


209 


flurries of the morning breeze sent them sailing over towards the colonel’s 
quarters. Anxious only for the coming of Merrick and no one else, Mr. 
Jerrold no sooner saw who was at the front door than he closed the 
shutters, called, Come in !” and a short, squat, wiry little man, dressed 
in the fatigue-uniform of the infantry, stood at the door-way to the hall. 

Come in here, Merrick,” said the lieutenant, and Merrick came. 

How much is it you owe me now ? — thirty-odd dollars, I think ?” 

I believe it is, lieutenant,” answered the man, with shifting eyes 
and general uneasiness of mien. 

You are not ready to pay it, I suppose ; and you got it from me 
when we left Fort Kaines, to help you out of that scrape there.” 

The soldier looked down and made no answer. 

Merrick, I want a note taken to town at once. I want yoti to 
take it and get it to its address before eight o’clock. I want you to say 
no word to a soul. Here’s ten dollars. Hire old Murphy’s horse 
across the river and go. If you are put in the guard-house when you 
get back, don’t say a word ; if you are tried by garrison court for 
crossing the bridge or absence without leave, plead guilty, make no 
defence, and I’ll pay you double your fine and let you otf the thirty 
dollars. But if you fail me, or tell a soul of your errand. I’ll write to 
— ^you know who, at Raines. Do you understand, and agree ?” 

I do. Yessir.” 

Go and get ready, and be here in ten minutes.” 

Meantime, Captain Chester had followed Sloat to the adjutant’s 
office. He was boiling over with indignation which he hardly knevt 
howto control. He found the gray- moustached subaltern tramping in 
great perplexity up and down the room, and the instant he entered was 
greeted with the inquiry, — 

What’s gone wrong ? What’s Jerrold been doing ?” 

Don’t ask me any questions, Sloat, but answer. It is a matter 
of honor. What was your bet with Jerrold ?” 

I oughtn’t to tell that, Chester. Surely it cannot be a matter 
mixed up with this.” 

“I can’t explain, Sloat. What I ask is unavoidable. Tell me 
about that bet.” 


Why, he was so superior and airy, you know, and was trying to 
make me feel that he was so much more intimate with them all at the 
colonel’s, and that he could have that picture for the mere asking ; and 
I got mad, and bet him he never could.” 

^ 18 * 


210 


FROM THE BANKS. 


“ Was that the day you shook hands on it?” 

«Yes.” 

And that was her picture — the picture, then — he showed you this 
morning.” 

Chester, you heard the conversation ; you were there ; you know 
that I^m on honor not to tell.” 

Yes, I know. That’s quite enough.” 


V. 

Before seven o’clock that same morning Captain Chester had come 
to the conclusion that only one course was left open for him. After the 
brief talk with Sloat at the office he had increased the perplexity and 
distress of that easily-muddled soldier by requesting his company in a 
brief visit to the stables and corrals. A “ squa»-e” and reliable old 
veteran was the quartermaster sergeant who had charge of those es- 
tablishments ; Chester had known him for years, and his fidelity and 
honesty were matters the officers of his former regiment could not too 
highly commend. When Sergeant Parks made an official statement 
there was no shaking its solidity. He slept in a little box of a house 
close by the entrance to the main stable, in which were kept the private 
horses of several of the officers, and among them Mr. Jerrold’s ; and 
it was his boast that, day or night, no horse left that stable without his 
knowledge. The old man was superintending the morning labors of 
the stable-hands, and looked up in surprise at so early a visit from the 
officer of the day. 

‘‘Were you here all last night, sergeant?” was Chester’s abrupt 
question. 

“ Certainly, sir, and up until one o’clock or mbre.” 

“ Were any horses out during the night, — any officers’ horses, I 
mean ?” 

“ No, sir, not one.” 

“ I thought possibly some officers might have driven or ridden to 
town.” 

“ No, sir. The only horses that crossed this threshold going out 
last night were Mr. Sutton’s team from town. They were put up here 
until near one o’clock, and then the doctor sent over for them. I 
lucked up right after that, and can swear nothing else went out.” 

Chester entered the stable and looked curi 3usly around. Presently 


FROM THE BANKS. 


211 


his eye lighted on a tall, rangy bay horse that was being groomed in a 
wide stall near the door-way. 

‘^That^s Mr. Jerrold^s Roderick, isn’t it?” 

Yes, sir. He’s fresh as a daisy, too, — hasn’t been out for three 
days, — and Mr. Jerrold’s going to drive the dog-cart this morning.” 

Chester turned away. 

Sloat,” said he, as they left the stable, “ if Mr. Jerrold was away 
from the post last night, — and you heard me say he was out of his 
quarters, — could he have gone any way except afoot, after what you 
heard Parks say ?” 

‘^Gone in the Suttons’ outfit, I suppose,” was Sloat’s cautious 
answer. 

^^In which event he would have been seen by the sentry at the 
bridge, would he not ?” 

Ought to have been, certainly.” 

“ Then we’ll go back to the guard-house.” And, wonderingly and 
uncomfortably, Sloat followed. He had long since begun to wish he 
had held his peace and said nothing about the confounded roll-call. 
He hated rows of any kind. He didn’t like JerroJd, but he would 
have crawled ventre d terre across the wide parade sooner than see a 
scandal in the regiment he loved ; and it was becoming apparent to his 
sluggish faculties that it was no mere matter of absence from quarters 
that was involving Jerrold. Chester was all aflame over that picture- 
business, he remembered, and the whole drift of his present inves- 
tigation was to prove that Jerrold was not absent from the post, but 
absent only from his quarters. If so, where had he spent his time 
until nearly four ? Sloat’s heart was heavy with vague apprehension. 
He knew that Jerrold had borne Alice Ren wick away from the party 
at an unusually earl^ hour for such things to break up. He knew 
that he and others had protested against such desertion, but she de- 
clared it could not be helped. He remembered another thing, — a 
matter that he thought of at the time, only from another point of view. 
It now seemed to have significance bearing on this very matter; for 
Chester suddenly asked, — 

Wasn’t it rather odd that Miss Beaubien was not here at the 
dance ? She has never missed one, seems to me, since Jerrold began 
spooning with her last year.” 

“ Why, she was here.” 

^^She was? Are you sure? Rollins never spoke of it; and we 


212 


FROM THE BANKS. 


had been talking of her. I inferred from what he said that she was 
not there at all. And I saw her drive homeward with her mother 
right after parade : so it didn’t occur to me that she could hav^e come 
out again, all that distance, in time for the dance. Singular ! Why 
shouldn’t Rollins have told me ?” 

Sloat grinned: a dreary sort of smile it was, too. ‘^You go into 
society so seldom you don’t see these things. I’ve more than half sus 
pected Rollins of being quite ready to admire Miss Beaubien himself j 
and since Jerrold dropped her he has had plenty of opportunity.” 

Great guns ! I never thought of it ! If I’d known she was to 
be there I’d have gone myself last night. How did she behave to 
Miss Renwick ?” 

Why, sweet and smiling, and chipper as you please. If anything, 
I think Miss Renwick was cold and distant to her. I couldn’t make 
it out at all.” 

And did Jerrold dance with her?” 

‘^Once, I think, and they had a talk out on the piazza, — -just a 
minute. I happened to be at the door, and couldn’t help seeing it ; 
and what got me was this ; Mr. Hall came out with Miss Renwick on 
his arm ; they were chatting and laughing as they passed me, but the 
moment she caught sight of Jerrold and Miss Beaubien she stopped, 
and said, ^ I think I won’t stay out here ; it’s too chilly,’ or something 
like it, and went right in ; and then Jerrold dropped Miss Beaubien 
and went after her. He just handed the young lady over to me, saying 
he was engaged for next dance, and skipped.” 

How did she like that? Wasn’t she furious?” 

“ No. That’s another thing that got me. She smiled after him, all 
sweetness, and — well, she did say, ^ I count upon you, — you’ll be there,’ 
and he nodded. Oh, she was bright as aYaitton after that.” 

What did she mean ? — be ^ where,’ do you suppose ? Sloat, this all 
means more to me, and to us ail, than I can explain.” 

I don’t know. I can’t imagine.” 

‘‘ Was it to see her again that night?” 

I don’t know at all. If it was, he fooled her, for he never went 
near her again. Rollins put her in the carriage.” 

Whose ? Did she come out with the Suttons ?” 

Why, certainly. I thought you knew that.” 

And neither old Madame Beaubien nor Mrs. Sutton with them ? 
What was the old squaw thinking of?” 


FROM THE BANKS. 


213 


By this time they had neared the guard-house, where several of the 
men were seated awaiting the call for the next relief. All arose at 
the shout of the sentry on Number One, turning out the guard for the 
officer of the day. Chester made hurried and impatient acknowledg- 
ment of the salute, and called to the sergeant to send him the sentry 
who was at the bridge at one o’clock. It turned out to be a young 
soldier who had enlisted at the post only six months before and was 
already known as one of the most intelligent and promising candidates 
for a corporalship in the garrison. 

“ Were you on duty at the bridge at one o’clock, Carey?” asked the 
captain. 

I was, sir. My relief went on at 11.45 and came off at 1.45.” 

What persons passed your post during that time ?” 

‘‘ There was a squad or two of men coming back from town on pass. 
I halted them, sir, and Corporal Murray came down and passed them In.” 

I don’t mean coming from town. AVho went the other way ?” 

“ Only one carriage, sir, — Mr. Sutton’s.” 

“ Could you see who were in it ?” 

Certainly, sir : it was right under the lamp-post this end of the 
bridge that I stood when I challenged. Lieutenant Rollins answered 
for them and passed them out. He was sitting beside Mr. Sutton as 
they drove up, then jumped out and gave me the countersign and bade 
them good-night right there.” 

“ Rollins again,” thought Chester. Why did he keep this from 
me ?” 

“ Who were in the carriage ?” he asked. 

Mr. Sutton, sir, on the front seat, driving, and two young ladies 
on the back seat.” 

Nobody else ?” 

Not a soul, sir. I could see in it plain as day. One lady was 
Miss Sutton, and the other Miss Beaubien. I know I was surprised at 
seeing the latter, because she drove home in her own carriage last even- 
ing right after parade. I was on post there at that hour too, sir. The 
second relief is on from 5.45 to 7.45.” 

That will do, Carey. I see your relief is forming now.” 

As the officers walked away and Sloat silently plodded along beside 
his dark-browed senior, the latter turned to him ; 

I should say that there was no way in which Mr. Jerrold could 
have gone town wards last night. Should not you ?” 


214 


FROM THE BANKS. 


He might have crossed the bridge while the third relief was on, 
and got a horse at the other side/’ 

‘‘He didn’t do that, Sloat. I had already questioned the sentry on 
that relief. It was the third that I inspected and visited this morning.” 

“ Well, how do you know he wanted to go to town? Why couldn’t 
he have gone up the river, or out to the range ? Perhaps there was a 
little game of ‘ draw’ out at camp.” 

“There was no light in camp, much less a little game of draw, 
after eleven o’clock. You know well enough that there is nothing of 
that kind going on with Gaines in command. That isn’t Jerrold’s 
game, even if those fellows were bent on ruining their eyesight and 
nerve and spoiling the chance of getting the men on the division and 
army teams. I wish it were his game, instead of what it is !” 

“ Still, Chester, he may have been out in the country somewhere. 
You seem bent on the conviction he was up to mischief here, around 
this post. I won’t ask you what you mean ; but there’s more than one 
way of getting to town if a man wants to very bad.” 

“ How ? Of course he can take a skiff and row down the river ; 
but he’d never be back in time for reveille. There goes six o’clock, 
and I must get home and shave and think this over. Keep your own 
counsel, no matter who asks you. If you hear any questions or talk 
about shooting last night, you know nothing, heard nothing, and saw 
nothing.” 

“ Shooting last night !” exclaimed Sloat, all agog with eagerness 
and excitement now. “ Where was it ? Who was it ?” 

But Chester turned a deaf ear upon him, and walked away. He 
wanted to see Hollins, and went straight home. 

“ Why didn’t you tell me Miss Beaubien was out here last night ?” 
was the question he asked as soon as he had entered the room where, 
all aglow from his cold bath, the youngster was dressing for breakfast. 
He colored vividly, then laughed. 

“ Well, you never gave me much chance to say anything, did you? 
You talked all the time, as I remember, and suddenly vanished and 
slammed the door. I would have told you had you asked me.” But 
all the same it was evident for the first time that here was a subject 
Rollins was shy of mentioning. 

“ Did you go down and see them across sentry post ?” 

“ Certainly. Jerrold asked me to. He said he had to take Miss 


FROM THE RANKS, 


215 


Ren wick home, and was too tired to come back, — was going to turn in. 
I was glad to do anything to be civil to the Buttons.” 

Why, I’d like to know ? They have never invited you to the 
house or shown you any attention whatever. You are not their style 
at all, Rollins, and I’m glad of it. It wasn’t for their sake you stayed 
there until one o’clock instead of being here in bed. I wish — ” and he 
looked wistfully, earnestly, at his favorite now, “ I wish I could think 
it wasn’t for the sake of Miss Beaubien’s black eyes and aboriginal 
beauty.” 

“ Look here, captain,” said Rollins, with another rush of color to 
his face ; you don’t seem to fancy Miss Beaubien, and — she’s a friend 
of mine, and one I don’t like to hear slightingly spoken of. You said a 
good deal last night that — well, wasn’t pleasant to hear.” 

I know it, Rollins. I beg your pardon. I didn’t know then that 
you were more than slightly acquainted with her. I’m an old bat, and 
go out very little, but some things are pretty clear to my eyes, and — 
don’t you be falling in love with Nina Beaubien. That is no match for 
you.” 

I’m sure you never had a word to say against her father. The 
old colonel was a perfect type of the French gentleman, from all I 
hear.” 

Yes, and her mother is as perfect a type of a Chippewa squaw, if 
she is only a half-breed and claims to be only a sixteenth. Rollins, 
there’s Indian blood enough in Nina Beaubien’s little finger to make 
me afraid of her. She is strong as death in love or hate, and you must 
have seen how she hung on Jerrold’s every word all last winter. You 
must know she is not the girl to be lightly dropped now.” 

She told me only a day or two ago they were the best of friends 
and had never been anything else,” said Rollins, hotly. 

Has it gone that far, my boy ? I had not thought it so bad, by 
any means. It’s no use talking with a man who has lost his heart : 
his reason goes with it.” And Chester turned away. 

‘‘ You don’t know anything about it,” was all poor Rollins could 
think of as a suitable thing to shout after him ; and it made no more 
impression than it deserved. 

As has been said. Captain Chester had decided before seven o’clock 
that but one course lay open to him in the matter as now developed. 
Had Armitage been there he would have had an adviser, but there was no 
other man whose counsel he cared to seek. Old Captain Gray was as 


216 


FROM THE BANKS. 


oitter against Jerrold as Chester himself, and with even better reason, 
for he knew well the cause of his little daughter’s listless mamier and 
tearful eyes. She had been all radiance and joy at the idea of coming 
to Sibley and being near the great cities, but not one happy look had 
he seen* in her sweet and wistful face since the day of her arrival. 
Wilton, too, was another captain who disliked Jerrold ; and Chester’s 
rugged sense of fair play told him that it was not among the enemies 
of the young officer that he should now seek advice, but that if he had 
a friend among the older and wiser heads in the regiment it was due to 
him that that older and wiser head be given a chance to think a little 
for Jerrold’s sake. And there was not one among the seniors whom he 
could call upon. As he ran over their names, Chester for the first time 
realized that his ex-subaltern had not a friend among the captains and 
senior officers now on duty at the fort. His indifference to duties, his 
airy foppishness, his conceit and self-sufficiency, had all served to create 
a feeling against him ; and this had been intensified by his conduct 
since coming to Sibley. The youngsters still kept up jovial relations 
with and professed to like him, but among the seniors there were many 
men who had only a nod for him on meeting. Wilton had epitomized 
the situation by saying he “ had no use for a masher,” and poor old 
Gray had one day scowlingly referred to him as ^‘the professional 
beauty.” 

In view of all this feeling, Chester would gladly have found some 
man to counsel further delay ; but there was none. He felt that he 
must inform the colonel at once of the fact that Mr. Jerrold was absent 
from his quarters at the time of the firing, of his belief that it was 
Jerrold who struck him and sped past the sentry in the dark, and of 
his conviction that the sooner the young officer was called to account 
for his strange conduct the better. As to the episodes of the ladder, 
the lights, and the form at the dormer-window, he meant, for the present 
at least, to lock them in his heart. 

But he forgot that others too must have heard those shots, and that 
others too would be making inquiries. 


VI. 

A lovely morning it was that beamed on Sibley and the broad and 
beautiful valley of the Cloudwater when once the sun got fairly above 
the moist horizon. Mist and vapor and heavy cloud all seemed swal- 
lowed up in the gathering, glowing warmth, as though the King of 


FROM THE RANKS, 


217 


Day had risen atliirst and drained the welcoming ciip of nature. It 
must have rained at least a little during the darkness of the night, for 
dew there could have been none with skies so heavily overcast, and yet the 
short smooth turf on the parade, the leaves upon the little shade-trees 
around the quadrangle, and all the beautiful vines here on the trellis- 
work of the colonel's veranda, shone and s})arkled in the radiant light. 
The roses in the little garden, and the old-fashioned morning-glory 
vines over at the east side, were all a-glitter in the hooding sunshine 
when the bugler came out from a glance at the clock in the adjutant's 
office and sounded ‘‘sick-call" to the indilferent ear of the garrison. 
Once each day, at 7.30 a.m., the doctor trudged across to the hospital 
and looked over the half-dozen “ hopelessly healthy" but would-be in- 
valids w’ho wanted to get off guard duty or a morning at the range. 
Thanks to the searching examination to which every soldier must be 
subjected before he can enter the service of Uncle Sam, and to the dis- 
ciplined order of the lives of the men at Sibley, maladies of any serious 
nature were almost unknown. It was a gloriously healthy post, as 
everybody admitted, and, to judge from the specimen of young-woman- 
liood that came singing, “ blithe and low," out among the roses this 
same joyous morning, exuberant physical well-being was not restricted 
to the men. 

A fairer picture never did dark beauty present than Alice Renwick, 
as she bent among the bushes or reached high among the vines in search 
of her favorite flowers. Tall, slender, willowy, yet with exquisitely- 
rounded form ; slim, dainty little hands and feet ; graceful arms and 
wrists all revealed in the flowing sleeves of her snowy, web-like gowm, 
fitting her and displaying her sinuous grace of form as gowns so seldom 
do to-day. And then her face ! — a glorious picture of rich, ripe, tropi- 
cal beauty, with its great, soulful, sunlit eyes, heavily shaded though 
they were with those wondrous lashes ; beautiful, too, in contour as 
was the lithe body, and beautiful in every feature, even to the rare and 
dewy curve of her red lips, half opened as she sang. She was smiling 
to herself, as she crooned her soft, murmuring melody, and every 
little while the great dark eyes glanced over towards the shaded doors 
of Bachelors' Row. There was no one up to watch and tell : why 
should she not look thither, and even stand one moment peering under 
the veranda at a darkened window half-way down the row, as though 
impatient at the non-appearance of some familiar signal ? How came 
the laggard late? How slept the knight while here his lady stood irn- 
K 19 




218 


FROM THE BANKS. 


patient? She twined the leaves and roses in a fragrant knot, ran 
lightly within and laid them on the snowy cloth beside the colonePs 
seat at table, came forth and plucked some more and fastened them, 
blushing, blissful, in the lace-fringed opening of her gown, through 
which, soft and creamy, shone the perfect neck. 

“ Daisy, tell my fortune, pray ; 

He loves me not, — he loves me,” 

she blithely sang, then, hurrying to the gate, shaded her eyes with the 
shapely hand and gazed intently. ^Twas nearing eight, — nearing 
breakfast-time. But some one was coming. Horrid ! Captain Chester, 
of all men ! Coming, of course, to see papa, and papa not yet down, 
and mamma had a headache and had decided not to come down at all, 
she would breakfast in her room. What girl on earth when looking 
and longing and waiting for the coming of a graceful youth of twenty- 
six would be anything but dismayed at the substitution therefor of a 
bulky, heavy-hearted captain of forty-six, no matter if he were still 
unmarried ? And yet her smile was sweet and cordial. 

“ Why, good-morning. Captain Chester. I’m so glad to see you 
this bright day. Do come in and let me give you a rose. Papa will 
soon be down.” And she opened the gate and held forth one long, 
slim hand. He took it slowly, as though in a dream, raising his forage- 
cap at the same time, yet making no reply. He was looking at her tar 
more closely than he imagined. How fresh, how radiant, how fair and 
gracious and winning ! Every item of her attire was so pure and white 
and spotless ; every fold and curve of her gown seemed charged with 
subtile, delicate fragrance, as faint and sweet as the shy and modest wood- 
violet’s. She noted his silence and his haggard eyes. She noted the 
intent gaze, and the color mounted straightway to her forehead. 

And have you no word of greeting for me ?” she blithely laughed, 
striving to break through the awkwardness of his reserve, ^‘or are you 
worn out with your night watch as officer of the day ?” 

He fairly started. Had she seen him, then ? Did she know it was 
he who stood beneath her window, he who leaped in chase of that 
scoundrel, he who stole away with that heavy tell-tale ladder? and, 
knowing all this, could she stand there smiling in his face, the incarna- 
tion of maiden innocence and beauty ? Impossible! Yet what could 
she mean ? 

How did you know I had so long a vigil ?” he asked, and the 


FROM THE BANKS. 


219 


cold, strained tone, the half-averted eyes, the pallor of his face, all 
struck her at once. Instantly her manner changed : 

Oh, forgive me, captain. I see you are all worn out ; and Fm 
keeping you here at the gate. Come to the piazza and sit down. I’ll 
tell papa you are here, for I know you want to see him.” And she 
tripped lightly away before he could reply, and rustled up the stairs. 
He could hear her light tap at the colonel’s door, and her soft, clear, 
flute-like voice : Papa, Captain Chester is here to see you.” 

Papa indeed ! She spoke to him and of him as though he were 
her own. He treated her as though she were his flesh and blood, 
— as though he loved her devotedly. Even before she came had not 
they been prepared for this ? Did not Mrs. Maynard tell them that 
Alice had become enthusiastically devoted to her step-father and con- 
sidered him the most knightly and chivalric hero she had ever seen ? 
He could hear the colonel’s^ hearty and loving tone in reply, and then 
she came fluttering down again : 

Papa will be with you in five minutes, captain. But won’t yuu let 
me give you some coffee ? It’s all ready, and you look so tired, — even 
ill.” 

“ I have had a bad night,” he answered, but I’m growing old, and 
cannot stand sleeplessness as you young people seem to.” 

Was she faltering? He watched her eagerly, narrowly, almost 
wonderingly. Not a trace of confusion, not a sign of fear; and yet 
had he not seen her, and that other figure ? 

I wish you could sleep as I do,” was the prompt reply. “ I was 
in the land of dreams ten minutes after my head touched the pillow, 
and mamma made me come home early last night because of our 
journey to-day. You know we are going down to visit Aunt Grace, 
Colonel Maynard’s sister, at Lake Sabi on, and mamma wanted me to 
be looking: my freshest and best,” she said, and I never heard a thing 
till reveille.” 

His eyes, sad, penetrating, doubting, — yet self-doubting, too, — 
searched her very soul. Unflinchingly the dark orbs looked into his, — 
even pityingly ; for she quickly spoke again : 

Captain, do come into the breakfast-room and have some coffee. 
You have not breakfasted, I’m sure.” 

He raised his hand as though to repel her offer, — even to put her 
aside. He must understand her. He could not be hoodwinked in this 
way. 


220 


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Pardon me, Miss Pen wick, but did you hear nothing strange last 
night or early this morning? Were you not disturbed at all?’^ 

“ I ? No, indeed True, her face had changed now, but there 
was no fear in her eyes. It was a look of apprehension, perhaps, of 
concern and curiosity mingled, for his tone betrayed that something 
had happened which caused him agitation. 

And you heard no shots fired 

Shots ! No ! Oh, Captain Chester ! what does it mean ? Who 
was shot ? Tell me 

And now, with paling face and wild apprehension in her eyes, she 
turned and gazed beyond him, past the vines and the shady veranda, 
across the sunshine of the parade and under the old piazza, searching 
that still closed and darkened window. 

^^Who?’^ she implored, her hands clasping nervously, her eyes 
returning eagerly to his face. • 

It was not Mr. Jerrold,” he answered, coldly. He is unhurt, 
so far as shot is concerned.’^ 

‘‘ Then how is he hurt ? Is he hurt at all ?” she persisted ; and 
then as she met his gaze her eyes fell, and the burning blush of maiden 
shame surged up to her forehead. She sank upon a seat and covered 
her face with her hands. 

I thought of Mr. Jerrold, naturally. He said he would be over 
early this morning,” was all she could find to say. 

“ I have seen him, and presume he will come. To all appearances, 
he is the last man to suffer from last night’s affair,” he went on, relent- 
lessly, — almost brutally, — but she never winced. It is odd you did 
not hear the shots. I thought yours was the northwest room, — this 
one?” he indicated, pointing overhead. 

So it is, and I slept there all last night and heard nothing, — not 
a thing. Do tell me what the trouble was.” 

Then what was there for him to say? The colonel’s footsteps were 
heard upon the stair, and the colonel, with extended hand and beaming 
face and cheery welcome, came forth from the open door- way : 

“ Welcome, Chester ! I’m glad you’ve come just in time for break- 
fast. Mrs. Maynard won’t be down. She slept badly last night, and 
is sleeping now. What was the firing last night? I did not hear it at 
the time, but the orderly and old Maria the cook were discussing it as 
I was shaving.” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


221 


It is that I came to see you about, colonel. I am the man to hold 
responsible.” 

“ No prisoners got away, I hope ?’’ 

No, sir. Nothing, I fear, that would seem to justify my action. 
I ordered Number Five to fire.” 

‘‘ Why, what on earth could have happened around there, — almost 
back of us ?” said the colonel, in surprise. 

I do not know what had happened, or what was going to happen.” 
And Chester paused a moment, and glanced towards the door through 
which Miss Renwick had retired as soon as the colonel arrived. The 
old soldier seemed to understand the glance. “ She would not listen,” 
he said, proudly. 

I know,” explained Chester. “ I think it best that no one but you 
should hear anything of the matter for the present until I have investi- 
gated further. It was nearly half-past three this morning as I got 
around here on Five’s post, inspecting sentinels, and came suddenly in 
the darkness upon a man carrying a ladder on his shoulder. I ordered 
him to halt. The reply was a violent blow, and the ladder and I were 
dropped at the same instant, while the man sprang into space and 
dart^ off in the direction of Number Five. I followed quick as I 
could, heard the challenge and the cries of halt, and shouted to Leary 
to fire. He did, but missed his aim in the haste and darkness, and the 
man got safely away. Of course there is much talk and speculation 
about it around the post this morning, for several people heard the 
shots besides the guard, and, althougli I told Leary and others to say 
nothing, I know it is already generally known.” 

“ Oh, well, come in to breakfast,” said the colonel. We’ll talk it 
over there.” 

Pardon me, sir, I cannot. I must get back home before guard- 
mount, and Rollins is probably waiting to see me now. I — I could 
not discuss it at the table, for there are some singular features about 
the matter.” 

Why, in God’s name, what ?” asked the colonel, with sudden and 
deep anxiety. 

Well, sir, an officer of the garrison is placed in a compromising 
position by this affair, and cannot or will not explain.” 

‘^Who?” 

Mr. Jerrold, sir.” 

Jerrold I Why, I got a note from him not ten minutes ago saying 


222 


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he had an engagement in town and asking permission to go before 
guard-mounting, if Mr. Hall was ready. Hall wanted to go with him, 
Jerrold wrote, but Hall has not applied for permission to leave the 
post.’^ 

“ It is Jerrold who is compromised, colonel. I may be all wrong 
in my suspicions, all wrong in reporting the matter to you at all, but in 
my perplexity and distress I see no other way. Frankly, sir, the mo- 
ment I caught sight of the man he looked like Jerrold ; and two minutes 
after the shots were fired I inspected Jerrold’s quarters. He was not 
there, though the lamps were burning very low in the bedroom, and his 
bed had not been occupied at all. When you see Leary, sir, he will 
tell you that he also thought it must be Mr. Jerrold.” 

The young scapegrace ! — been off to town, I suppose.” 

“ Colonel,” said Chester, quickly, you — not I — must decide that. 
I went to his quarters after reveille, and he was then there, and resented 
my visit and questions, admitted that he had been out during the night, 
but refused to make any statement to me.” 

“ Well, Chester, I will haul him up after breakfast. Possibly he 
had been up to the rifle-camp, or had driven to town after the doctor’s 
party. Of course thcd must be stopped ; but I’m glad you missed him. 
It, of course, stagg^ers a man’s judgment to be knocked down, but if you 
had killed him it might have been as serious for you as this knock-down 
blow will be for him. That is the worst phase of the matter. What 
could he have been thinking of? He must have been either drunk or 
mad ; and he rarely drank. Oh, dear, dear, dear, but that’s very bad, 
— very bad, — striking the officer of the day ! W^hy, Chester, that’s the 
worst thing that’s happened in the regiment since I took command of 
it. It’s about the worst thing that could have happened to us. Of 
course he must go in arrest. I’ll see the adjutant right after breakfast. 
I’ll be over early, Chester.” And with grave and worried face the 
colonel bade him adieu. 

As he turned away, Chester heard him saying again to himself, 
“About the worst thing he could have done ! — the worst thing he could 
have done !” And the captain’s heart sank within him. What would 
the colonel say when he knew how far, far worse was the foul wrong 
Mr. Jerrold had done to him and his? 


FROM THE BANKS. 


223 


VII. 

Before guard-mounting — almost half an hour before his usual time 
for appearing at the office — Colonel Maynard hurried in to his desk, 
sent the orderly for Captain Chester, and then the clerks in the ser- 
geant-major\s room heard him close and lock the door. As the subject 
of the shooting was already under discussion among the men there 
assembled, this action on the part of the chief was considered highly 
significant. It was hardly five minutes before Chester came, looked 
surprised at finding the door locked, knocked, and was admitted. 

The look on the haggard face at the desk, the dumb misery in the 
eyes, the wrath and horror in it all, carried him back twenty years to 
that gloomy morning in the casemates when the story was passed 
around that Captain Maynard had lost a wife and an intimate friend 
during the previous night. Chester saw at a glance that, des])ite his 
precautions, the blow had come, the truth been revealed at one fell 
swoop. 

Lock the door again, Chester, and come here. I have some 
questions to ask you.” 

The captain silently took the chair which was indicated by a wave 
of the colonePs hand, and waited. For a moment no word more was 
spoken. The old soldier, white and trembling strangely, reseated him- 
self at the desk, and covered his face with his hands. Twice he drew 
them with feebly stroking movement over his eyes, as tliough to rally 
the stunned faculties and face the trying ordeal. Then a shiver passed 
through his frame, and with sudden lift of the head he fixed his gaze 
on Chester\s face and launched the question, — 

Chester, is there any kindness to a man who has been through 
what I have in telling only half a tale, as you havQ done?” 

The captain colored red. I am at a loss to answer you, colonel,” 
he said, after brief reflection. You know far more than you did half 
an hour ago, and what I knew I could not bear to tell you as yet.” 

‘^My God! my God! Tell me a//, and tell me at- once. Here, 
man, if you need stimulant to your indignation and cannot speak with- 
out it, read this. I found it, open, among tlie rose-bushes in the gar- 
den, where she must have droi)j)ed it when out there with you. Bead 
it. Tell me what it means; for, God knows, I can^t believe such a 
thing of her.” | 

He handed Chester a sheet of note-paper. It was moist and blurred 


224 


FROM THE RANKS. 


on the first page, but the inner pages, though damp, were in good con- 
dition. The first, second, and tliird pages were closely covered in a 
bold, nervous hand that Chester knew well. It was Jerrold’s writing, 
beyond a doubt, and Chester’s face grew hot as lie read, and his heart 
trjned cold as stone when he finished the last hurried line. 

My Darling, — 

“ I rmust see you, if only for a moment, before you leave. Do not 
let this alarm you, for the more I think the more I am convinced it is 
only a bluff, but Captain Chester discovered my absence early this 
morning when spying around as usual, and now he claims to have 
knowledge of our secret. Even if he was on the terrace when I got 
back, it was too dark for him to recognize me, and it seems impossible 
that he can have got any real clue. He suspects, perhaps, and thinks 
to force me to confession ; but I would guard your name with my life. 
Be wary. Act as though there were nothing on eartli between us, and 
if we cannot meet until then I will be at the d4p6t with the others to 
see you off, and will then have a letter ready with full particulars 
and instructions. It will be in the first thing I hand to you. Hide it 
until you can safely read it. Your mother must not be allowed a 
glimmer of sus])icion, and then you are safe. As for me, even Chester 
cannot make the colonel turn against me now. My jealous one, my 
fiery sweetheart, do you not realize now that I was wise in showing her 
so much attention ? A thousand kisses. Come what may, they cannot 
rob us of the past. Howard. 

I fear you heard and were alarmed by the shots just after I left 
you. All was quiet when I got home.” 

It was some seconds before Chester could control himself suf- 
ficiently to speak. I wish to God the bullet had gone through his 
heart !” he said. 

It has gone through mine, — through mine ! This will kill her 
mother. Chester,” cried the colonel, springing suddenly to his feet, 
“she must not know it. She must not dream of it. I tell you it 
would stretch her in the dust, dead^ for she loves that child with all her 
strength, with all her being, I believe, for it is two mother-loves in one. 
She had a son, older than Alice by several years, her first-bom, — her 
glory, he was, — but the boy inherited the father’s passionate and ira- 


FROM THE BANKS. 


22c 


pulsive nature. He loved a girl utterly beneath him, and would have 
married her when he was only twenty. There is no question that he 
loved her well, for he refused to give her u]), no matter what his father 
threatened. They tried to buy her off, and she scorned them. Then 
they had a letter written, while he was sent abroad under pretence that 
he should have his will if he came back in a year unchang^. By Jove, 
it seems she was as much in love as he, and it broke her heart. She 
went off and died somewhere, and he came back ahead of time because 
lier letters had ceased, and found it all out. There was an awful scene. 
He cursed them both, — father and mother, — ^and left her senseless at 
his feet; and from that day to this they never heard of him, never 
could get the faintest report. It broke Renwick, — killed him, I guess 
for he died in two years ; and as for the mother, you would not tliink 
that a woman so apparently full of life and health was in desperate 
danger. She had some organic trouble with the heart years ago, they 
tell her, and this experience has developed it so that now any great emo- 
tion or sudden shock is perilous. Do you not see how doubly fearful 
this comes to us ? Chester, I have weathered one awful storm, but I’m 
old and broken now. This — this beats me. Tell me what to do.” 

The captain was silent a few moments. He was thinking intently. 

Does she know you have that letter ?” he asked. 

Maynard shook his head ; I looked back as I came away. She 
was in the parlor, singing softly to herself, at tlie very moment I 
picked it up, lying open as it was right there among the roses, the first 
words staring me in the face. I meant not to read it, — never dreamed 
it was for her, — and had turned over the page to look for the super- 
scription. There was none, but there I saw the signature and that 
postscript about the shots. That startled me, and I read it here just 
before you came, and then could account for your conduct, — something 
I could not do before. God of heaven 1 would any man believe it of 
her ? It is incredible ! Chester, tell me -<sveiything you Imow now,— 
even everything you suspect. I must see ray way clear.” 

And then 3ie captain, with halting and reluctant tongue, told his 
story: how he had stumbled on the ladder back of me colonel’s 
quarters and learned from Number Five that some one had been prowl- 
ing back of Bachelors’ Row ; how he returned tliere afterwards, found 
the ladder at the side-wall, and saw the tall form issue ‘aoxn her win- 
dow ; how he had given chase and been knocked bxeathlessj <wd of his 
suspicions, and Leary’s, as to the identity qf the straitger. 

K* 


226 


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The colonel bowed his head still deeper, and groaned aloud. But 
he had still other questions to ask. 

Did you see — any one else at the window 

Not while he w^as there.” 

*^At any time, tlien, — before or after?” And the colonel’s eyes 
would take no denial. 

“ I saw,” faltered Chester, “ nobody. The shade was pulled up 
while I was standing there, after I had tripped on the ladder. I sujv 
posed the noise of my stumble had awakened her.” 

And was that all ? Did you see nothing more ?” 

Colonel, I did see, afterwards, a woman^s hand and arm closing 
the shade.” ^ 

My God ! And she told me she slept the night through, — never 
waked or heard a sound !” 

“ Did you hear nothing yourself, colonel ?” 

Nothing. When she came home from the party she stopped a 
moment, saying something to him at the door, then came into the 
library and kissed me good-night. I shut up the house and went 
to bed about half-past twelve, and her door was closed when I went to 
our room.” 

So there were two closed doors, yours and hers, and the broad hall 
between you ?” 

Certainly. We have the doors open all night that lead into the 
rear rooms, and their windows. This gives us abundant air. Alice 
always has the hall door closed at night.” 

And Mrs. Maynard, — was she asleep ?” 

“ No. Mrs. Maynard was lying awake, and seemed a little restless 
and disturbed. Some of the women had been giving her some hints 
about Jerrold and fretting her. You know she took a strange fancy to 
him at the start. It was simply because he reminded her so strongly 
of the boy she had lost. She told me so. But after a little she began 
to discover traits in him she did not like, and then his growing in- 
timacy with Alice worried her. She would have put a stop to the doc- 
tor’s party, — to her going with him, I mean, — but the engagement was 
made some days ago. Two or three days since, she warn^ Alice not 
to trust him, she says ; and it is really as much on this as any other 
account that we decided to get her away, oft* to see her aunt Grace. 
Oh, God ! how blind we are I how blind we are !” And poor old 
Maynard bowed his head and almost groaned aloud. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


227 


Chester rose, and, in his characteristic way, began tramping ner- 
vously up and down. There was a knock at the door. The adjutant’s 
compliments, and ’twas time for guard-mount. Would the colonel 
wish to see him before he went out ?” asked the orderly. 

“ I ought to go, sir,” said Chester. I am old officer of the day, 
and th^ere will be just time for me to get into full uniform.” 

Let them go on without you,” said Maynard. “ I cannot spare 
you now. Send word to that effect. Now, — now about this man, — 
this Jerrold. What is the best thing we can do? — of course I know 
what he most deserves ; — but what is the best thing under all the circum- 
stances ? Of course my wife and Alice will leave to-day. She was still 
sleeping when I left, and, pray God, is not dreaming of this. It was 
nearly two before she closed her eyes last night ; and I, too, slept 
badly. You have seen him. What does he say ?” 

‘^Denies everything, — anything, — challenges me to prove that he 
was absent from his house more than five minutes, — indeed, I could 
not, for he may have come in just after I left, — and pretended utter 
ignorance of my meaning when I accused him of striking me before I 
ordered the sentry to fire. Of course it is all useless now. When I 
confront him with this letter he must give in. Then let him resign and 
get away as quietly as possible before the end of the week. No one 
need know the causes. Of course shooting is what he deserves ; but 
shooting demands explanation. It is better for your name, hers, and 
all, that he should be allowed to live than that the truth were sus- 
pected, as it would be if he were killed. Indeed, sir, if I were you 1 
would take them to Sablon, keep them away for a fortnight, and leave 
him to me. It may be even judicious to let him go on with all his 
duties as though nothing had happened, as though he had simply been 
absent from reveille, and let the whole matter drop like that until all 
remark and curiosity is lulled ; then you can send her back to Europe 
or the East, — time enough to decide on that ; but I will privately tell 
him he must quit the service in six months, and show him why. It 
isn’t the way it ought to be settled ; it probably isn’t the way Armitage 
would do it ; but it is the best thing that occurs to me. One thing is 
certain : you and they ought to get away at once, and he should not be 
permitted to see her again. I can run the post a few days and explain 
matters after you go.” 

The colonel sat in wretched silence a few moments ; then he arose : 

If it were not for her danger, — her heart, — I would never drop 


228 


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tlie matter here, — never ! I would see it through to the bitter end. 
But you are probably right as to tlie prudent course to take. Idl get 
them away on the noon train : he thinks they do not start until later. 
Now I must go and face it. My God, Chester ! could you look at that 
child and realize it? Even now, even now, sir, I believe — I believe, 
someway — somehow — she is innocent.’^ 

God grant it, sir 

And then the colonel left the office, avoiding, as has been told, a 
word with any man. Chester buttoned the tell-tale letter in an inner 
pocket, after having first folded the sheet lengthwise and then enclosed 
it in a long official envelope. The officers, wondering at the coloneFs 
distraught appearance, had come thronging in, hoping for information, 
and then had gone, unsatisfied and disgusted, practically turned out by 
their crabbed senior captain. The ladies, after chatting aimlessly about 
the quadrangle for half an hour, had decided that Mrs. Maynard must 
be ill, and, while most of them awaited the result, two of their number 
went to the coloneFs house and rang at the bell. A servant appeared : 
“ Mrs. Maynard wasn’t very well this morning, and was breakfasting 
in her room, and Miss Alice was with her, if the ladies would please 
excuse them.” And so the emissaries returned unsuccessful. Then, 
too, as we have seen, despite his good intention of keeping matters 
hushed as much as possible, Chester’s nervous irritability had got the 
better of him, and he had made damaging admissions to Wilton of 
the existence of a cause of worriment and perplexity, and this Wilton 
told without compunction. And then there was another excitement^ 
that set all tongues wagging. JCvery man had heard what Chester said, 
that Mr. Jerrold must not quit the garrison until he had first come and 
seen the temporary commanding officer, and Hall had speedily carried 
the news to his friend. 

“Are you ready to go?” asked Mr. Jerrold, who was lacing his 
boots in the rear room. 

“ No. I’ve got to go and get into ^ cits’ first.” 

“ All right. Go, and be lively ! I’ll wait for you at Murphy’s, 
beyond the bridge, provided you say nothing about it.” 

“ You don’t mean you are going against orders?” 

“Going? Of course I am. I’ve got old Maynard’s permission, 
and if Chester means to revoke it he’s got to get his adjutant here inside 
of ten seconds. What you tell me isn’t official. I’m off now /” 

And when the adjutant returned to Captain Chester it was with the 


FROM THE RANKS. 


229 


information that he was too late : Mr. Jerrold’s dog-cart had crossed 
the bridge five minutes earlier. 

Perhaps an hour later the colonel sent for Chester, and the captain 
went to his house. The old soldier was pacing slowly up and down the 
parlor floor. 

‘‘ I wanted you a moment. A singular tiling has happened. You 
know that ^DirectoiiV cabinet photo of Alice? My wife always kept 
it on her dressing-table, and this morning it’s gone. That frame — the 
silver filigree thing — was found behind a sofa-pillow in Alice’s room, 
and she declares she has no idea how it got there. Chester, is there 
any new significance in this ?” 

The captain bowed assent. 

“ What is it ?” 

That photograph was seen by Major Sloat in Jerrold’s bureau- 
drawer at reveille this morning.” 

And such was the situation at Sibley the August day the colonel 
took his wife and her lovely daughter to visit Aunt Grace at Lake 
Sablon. 


VIII. 

In the big red omnibus that was slowly toiling over the dusty road 
several passengers were making their way from the railway-station to 
the hotel at Lake Sablon. Two of them were women of mature years, 
whose dress and bearing betokened lives of ease and comfort ; another 
was a lovely brunette of less than twenty, the daughter, evidently, of 
one of these ladies, and an object of loving pride to both. These three 
seemed at home in their surroundings, and were absorbed in the packet 
of letters and j^apers tliey had just received at the station. It was evi- 
dent that they were not new arrivals, as were the other passengers, who 
studied them with the half-envious feelings with which new-comers at 
a summer resort are apt to regard those who seem to have been long 
established there, and who gathered from the scraps of conversation 
that they had merely been over to say good-by to friends leaving on the 
very train which brought in the rest of what we good Americans term 
“the ’bus-load.” There were women among the newly-arrived who 
inspected the dark girl with that calm, unflinching, impertinent scrutiny 
and half-audibly whispered comment which, had they been of the oppo- 
site sex, would have warranted their being kicked out of the conveyance, 
but which was ignored by the fair object and her friends as completely 

20 


230 


FROM THE BANKS. 


as were the commentators themselves. There were one or two men in 
the omnibus who might readily have been forgiven an admiring glance 
or two at so bright a vision of girlish beauty as was Miss Renwick this 
August afternoon, and they had looked ; but the one who most attracted 
the notice of Mrs. Maynard and Aunt Grace — a taM, stalwart, dis- 
tinguished-looking party in gray travelling-dress — had taken his seat 
close to the door and was deep in the morning’s paper before they were 
fairly away from the station. 

Laying down the letter she had just finished reading, Mrs. Maynard 
glanced at her daughter, who was still engaged in one of her own, and 
evidently with deep interest. 

From Fort Sibley, Alice ?” 

“Yes, mamma, all three, — Miss Craven, Mrs. Hoyt, and — Mr. 
Jerrold. Would you like to see it?” And, with rising color, she held 
forth the one in her hand. 

“ Not now,” was the answer, with a smile that told of confidence 
and gratification both. “ It is about the german, I suppose ?” 

“ Yes. He thinks it outrageous that we should not be there, — says 
it is to be the prettiest ever given at the fort, and that Mrs. Hoyt and 
Mrs. Craven, who are the managers for the ladies, had asked him to 
lead. He wants to know if we cannot possibly come.” 

“ Are you not very eager to go, Alice ? I should be,” said Aunt 
Grace, with sympathetic interest. 

“ Yes, I am,” answered Miss Renwick, reflectively. “ It had been 
arranged that it should come oft next week, when, as was supposed, we 
would be home after this visit. It cannot be postponed, of course, 
because it is given in honor of all the officers who are gathered there 
for the rifle-competition, and that will be all over and done with to-day, 
and they cannot stay beyond Tuesday next. We must give it up, 
auntie,” and she looked up smilingly, “and you have made it so 
lovely for me here that I can do it without a sigh. Think of that ! — 
an army german ! — and Fanny Craven says the favors are to be simply 
lovely. Yes, I did want to go, but papa said he felt unequal to it the 
moment he got back from Chicago, day before yesterday, and he cer- 
tainly does not look at all well : so that ended it, and I wrote at once 
to Mrs. Hoyt. This is her answer now.” 

“ What does she say ?” 

“ Oh, it is very kind of her : she wants me to come and be her 
guest if the colonel is too ill to come and mamma will not leave him. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


231 


She says Mr. Hoyt will come down and escort me. But I would not 
like to go without mamma/’ and the big dark eyes looked up wistfully, 
and I know she does not care to urge papa when he seems so indis- 
posed to going.” 

Mrs. Maynard’s eyes were anxious and troubled now. She turned 
to her sister-in-law : 

“ Do you think he seems any better, Grace ? I do not.” 

It is hard to say. He was so nervously anxious to get away to 
see the general the very day you arrived here that there was not a 
moment in which I could ask him about himself; and since his return 
he has avoided all mention of it beyond saying it is nothing but indi- 
gestion and he would be all right in a few days. I never knew him to 
sutler in that way in my life. Is there any regimental matter that can 
be troubling him ?” she asked, in lower tone. 

Nothing of any consequence whatever. Of course the officers 
feel chagrined over their defeat in the rifle-match. They had expected 
to stand very high, but Mr. Jerrold’s shooting was unexpectedly below 
the average, and it threw their team behind. But the colonel didn’t 
make the faintest allusion to it. That hasn’t worried him anywhere 
near as much as it has the others, I should judge.” 

“I do not think it was all Mr. Jerrold’s fault, mamma,” said 
Miss Ren wick, with gentle reproach and a very becoming flush. I’m 
going to stand up for him, because I think they all blame him for 
other men’s poor work. He was not the only one on our team whose 
shooting was below former scores.” 

They claim that none fell so far below their expectations as he, 
Alice. You know I am no judge of such matters, but ^Ir. Hoyt and 
Captain Gray both write the colonel that Mr. Jerrold had been taking 
no care of himself whatever and was entirely out of form.” 

In any event I’m glad the cavalry did no better,” was Miss Ren- 
wick’s loyal response. You remember the evening we rode out to 
the range and Captain Gray said that there was the man who would 
win the first prize from Mr. Jerrold, — that tall cavalry sergeant who 
fainted away, — Sergeant McLeod; don’t you remember, mother? 
Well, he did not even get a place, and Mr. Jerrold beat him easily.” 

Something in her mother’s eyes warned her to be guarded, and, in 
that indefinable but unerring system of feminine telegraphy, called her 
attention to the man sitting by the door. Looking quickly to her 
right. Miss Renwick saw that he was intently regarding her. At the 


FROM THE RANKS. 


23:4 


mention of Fort Sibley the stranger had lowered his paper, revealing 
a bronzed face clean-shaven except for the thick blonde moustache, 
and a pair of clear, steady, searching blue eyes under heavy brows 
and lashes, and these eyes were very deliberately yet respectfully fixed 
upon her own ; nor were they withdrawn in proper confusion when 
detected. It was Miss Renwick whose eyes gave up the contest and 
returned in some sense of defeat to her mother^s face. 

What letters have you for the colonel asked Mrs. Maynard, 
coming au secours. 

Three, — two of them from his devoted henchman Captain Chester, 
who writes by every mail, I should imagine ; and these he will go off 
into some secluded nook with and come back looking blue and worried. 
Then here^s another, forwarded from Sibley, too. I do not know this 
hand. Perhaj^s it is from Captain Armitage, wdio, they say, is to come 
back next month. Poor Mr. Jerrold 

“Why poor Mr. Jerrold?’^ asked Aunt Grace, with laughing in- 
terest, as she noted the expression on her niece’s pretty face. 

“ Because he can’t bear Caj^tain Armitage, and ” 

“ Now, Alice !” said her mother, reprovingly. “ You must not take 
his view of the captain at all. Remember what the colonel said of 
him ” 

“Mother dear,” protested Alice, laughing, “I have no doubt Cap- 
tain Armitage is the paragon of a soldier, but he is unquestionably a 
most unpleasant and ungentlemanly person in his conduct to the young 
officers. Mr. Hall has told me the same thing. I declare, I don’t see 
how they can speak to him at all, he has been so harsh and discourteous 
and unjust.” The color was rising in earnest now, but a warning glance 
in her mother’s eye seemed to check further words. There was an in- 
stant’s silence. Then Aunt Grace remarked, — 

“ Alice, your next-door neighbor has vanished. I think your vehe- 
mence has frightened him.” 

Surely enough, the big, blue-eyed man in tweeds had disappeared. 
During this brief controversy he had quickly and noiselessly let him- 
self out of the open door, swung lightly to the ground, and was out of 
sight among the trees. 

“ Why, what a strange proceeding !” said Aunt Grace again. 
“ We are fully a mile and a half from the hotel, and he means to walk 
it in this glaring sun.” 

Evidently he did. Tho driver reined up at the moment in response 


FROM THE RANKS. 


233 


to a siip:gestiou from some one in a forward seat, and there suddenly ap- 
peared by the wayside, striding out from the shelter of the sumachs, the 
athletic figure of the stranger. 

Go ahead !’’ he called, in a deep chest-voice that had an unmis- 
takable ring to it, — the tone that one so readily recognizes in men 
accustomed to prompt action and command. “ I’m going across lots.” 
A nd, swinging his heavy stick, wdth quick, elastic steps and erect car- 
riage the man in gray plunged into a wood-path and was gone. 

Alice,” said Aunt Grace, again, that man is an officer, I’m suic, 
and you have driven him into exile and lonely wandering. I’ve seen 
so much of them when visiting my brother in the old days before my 
marriage that even in civilian dress it is easy to tell some of them. 
Just look at that back, and those shoulders ! He has been a soldier all 
his life. Horrors ! suppose it should be Ca])tain Armitage himself!” 

Miss Renwick looked genuinely distressed, as well as vexed. Cer- 
tainly no officer but Captain Armitage would have had reason to leave 
the stage. Certainly officers and their families occasionally visited 
Sablon in the summer-time, but Captain Armitage could hardly be 
here. There was comforting assurance in the very note she held in 
her hand. 

^‘It cannot be,” she said, “because Mr. Jerrold writes that they 
have just heard from him at Sibley. He is still at the sea-shore, and 
will not return for a month. Mr. Jerrold says he implored Captain 
Chester to let him have three days’ leave to come down here and have 
a sail and a picnic with us, and was told that it would be out of the 
question.” 

“ Did he tell you any other news ?” asked Mrs. Maynard, looking 
up from her letter again, — “ anything about the german ?” 

“He says he thinks it a shame we are to be away and — well, read 
it yourself.” And she placed it in her mother’s hands, the dark eyes 
seriously, anxiously studying her face as she read. Presently Mrs. 
Maynard laid it down and looked again into her own, then, pointing to 
a certain passage with her finger, handed it to her daughter. 

“Men were deceivers ever,” she said, laughing, yet oracularly 
significant. 

And Alice Renwick could not quite control the start with which 
she read, — 

“ Mr. Jerrold is to lead with his old love, Nina Beaubien. They 

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make a capital pair, and she, of course, will be radiant — with Alice out 
of the way/^ 

^‘That is something Mr. Jerrold failed to mention, is it not?^^ 

Miss Renwick’s cheeks were flushed, and the dark eyes were filled 
with sudden pain, as she answered, — 

I did not know she was there. She was to have gone to the 
Lakes the same day we left.’^ 

She did go, Alice,” said her mother, quietly, but it was only for 
a brief visit, it seems.” 

The colonel was not at their cottage when the omnibus reached the 
lake. Over at the hotel were the usual number of loungers gathered to 
see the new arrivals, and Alice presently caught sight of the colonel 
coming through the park. If anything, he looked more listless and 
dispirited than he had before they left. She ran down the steps to 
meet him, smiling brightly up into his worn and haggard face. 

^^Are you feeling a little brighter, papa? Here are letters for 
you.” 

He took them wearily, barely glancing at the superscriptions. 

I had hoped for something more,” he said, and passed on into the 
little frame house which was his sister^s summer home. “ Is your 
mother here ?” he asked, looking back as he entered the door. 

In the north room, with Aunt Grace, papa,” she answered ; and 
then once more and with graver face she began to read Mr. Jerrokhs 
letter. It was a careful study she was making of it this time, and not 
altogether a pleasant one. Aunt Grace came out and made some laugh- 
ing remark at seeing her still so occupied. She looked up, pluckily 
smiling despite a sense of wounded pride, and answered, — 

I am only convincing myself that it was purely on general prin- 
ciples that Mr. Jerrold seemed so anxious I should be there. He never 
wanted me to lead with him at all.” All the same it stung, and Aunt 
Grace saw and knew it, and longed to take her to her heart and com- 
fort her ; but it was better so. She was finding him out unaided. 

She was still studying over portions of that ingenious letter, when 
the rustle of her aunt’s gown indicated that she was rising. She saw 
her move towards the steps, heard a quick, firm tread upon the narro\N 
planking, and glanced up in surprise. There, uncovering his close- 
cropped head, stood the tall stranger, looking placidly up as he addressed 
Aunt Grace : 

“ Pardon me, can I see Colonel Maynard ?” 


FROM THE BANKS. 


235 


“ He is at home. Pray come up and take a chair. I will let him 
know. I — I felt sure you must be some friend of his when I saw you 
in the stage,” said the good lady, with manifest and apologetic uneasiness. 

Yes,” responded the stranger, as he quickly ascended the steps 
and bowed before her, smiling quietly the while. Let me intro- 
duce myself. I am Captain Armitage, of the colonePs regiment.” 

There ! I knew it !” was Aunt Grace’s response, as with both 
hands uplifted in tragic despair she gave one horror-stricken glance at 
Alice and rushed into the house. 

There was a moment’s silence ; then, with burning cheeks, but 
with brave eyes that looked frankly into his, Alice Kenwick arose, 
came straight up to him, and held out her pretty hand. 

Captain Armitage, I beg your pardon.” 

He took the extended hand and gazed earnestly into her face, while 
a kind — almost merry — smile lighted up his own. 

“ Have the boys given me such an uncanny reputation as all that ?” 
he asked ; and then, as though tickled with the comicality of the situ- 
ation, he began to laugh. ‘‘ What ogres some of us old soldiers do 
become in the course of years ! Do you know, young lady, I might 
never have suspected what a brute I was if it had not been for you ? 
What a blessed thing it was the colonel did not tell you I was coming ! 
You would never have given me this true insight into my character.” 

But she saw nothing to laugh at, and would not laugh. Her lovely 
face was still burning with blushes and dismay and full of trouble. 

I do not look upon it lightly at all,” she said. “ It was unpardon- 
able in me to — to ” 

To take so efiective and convincing a method of telling a man of 
his grievous sins ! Not a bit of it. I like a girl who has the courage 
to stand up for her friends. I shall congratulate Jerrold and Hall both 
when I get back, lucky fellows that they are !” And evidently Captain 
Armitage was deriving altogether too much jolly entertainment from her 
awkwardness. She rallied and strove to put an end to it. 

Indeed, Captain Armitage, I do think the young officers sorely 
need friends and advocates at times. I never would have knowingly 
sj)oken to you of your personal responsibilities in the woes of Mr. Jer- 
rold and Mr. Hall, but since I have done so unwittingly I may as well 
(leline my j)osition, especially as you are so good-natured with it all.” 
And here, it must be admitted. Miss Renwick’s beautiful eyes were 
shyly lifted to his in a most telling way. Once there, they looked 


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squarely into the clear blue depths of his, and never flinched. It 
seemed to me several times at Sibley that the young officers deserved 
more consideration and courtesy than their captains accorded them. It 
was not you alone that I heard of.” 

I am profoundly gratified to learn that somebody else is a brute,” 
he answered, trying to look grave, but with that irrepressible merriment 
twitching at the corners of his mouth and giving sudden gleams of ids 
firm white teeth through the thick moustache. “ You are come to us 
just in time. Miss Eenwick, and if you will let me come and tell you 
all my sorrows the next time the colonel pitches into me for something 
wrong in B Company, I’ll give you full permission to overhaul me for 
everything or anything I say and do to the youngsters. Is it a 
bargain ?” And he held out his big, firm hand. 

“ I think you are — very different from what I heard,” was all her 
answer, as she looked up in his eyes, twinkling as they were with fun. 

Oh, we are to shake hands on it as a bargain? Is that it? Very 
well, then.” 


IX. 

Wlien Captain Armitage left the cottage that night he did not go 
at once to his own room. Brief as was the conversation he had enjoyed 
with Miss Ken wick, it was all that Fate vouchsafed him for that date 
at least. The entire j)arty went to tea together at the hotel, but im- 
mediately thereafter the colonel carried Armitage away, and for two 
long hours they were closeted over some lettem that had come from 
Sibley, and when the conference broke up and the wondering ladies saw 
the two men come forth it was late, — almost ten o’clock, — and the 
captain did not venture beyond the threshold of the sitting-room. He 
bowed and bade them a somewhat ceremonious good-night. His eyes 
rested — lingered — on Miss Kenwick’s uplifted face, and it was the 
picture he took with him into the stillness of the summer night. 

The colonel accompanied him to the steps, and rested his hand upon 
the broad gray shoulder. 

God only knows how I hav^e needed you, Armitage. This trouble 
has nearly crushed me, and it seemed as though I were utterly alone. 
I had the haunting fear that it was only weakness on my ])art and my 
love for my wife that made me stand out against Chester’s propositions. 
He can only see guilt and conviction in every new phase of the case, 


FROM THE BANKS. 


237 


and, though you see how he tries to spare me, his letters give no hope 
of any other coucliisioii.^^ 

Armitage pondered a moment before lie answered. Then he slowly 
spoke : 

Chester has lived a lonely and an unhapjiy life. His first experi- 
ence after graduation was that wretched afiair of which you have told 
me. Of course I knew much of the particulars before, but not all. I 
respect Chester as a soldier and a gentleman, and I like liim and trust 
him as a friend ; but. Colonel Maynard, in a matter of such vital im- 
portance as this, and one of such delicacy, I distrust, not his motives, 
but llis judgment. All his life, practically, he has been brooding over 
the sorrow that came to him when your trouble came to you, and his 
mind is grooved : he believes he sees mystery and intrigue in matters 
that others might explain in an instant.” 

^‘But think of all the array of evidence he has.” 

" Enough, and more than enough, I admit, to warrant everything 
he has thought or said of the man ; but ” 

“He simply puts it this way. If he be guilty, can she be less? 
Is it possible, Armitage, that you are unconvinced?” 

“ Certainly I am unconvinced. The matter has not yet been sifted. 
As I understand it, you have forbidden his confronting Jerrold with the 
proofs of his rascality until I get there. Admitting the evidence of the 
ladder, the picture, and the form at the window, — ay, the letter, too,— 
I am yet to be convinced of one thing. You must remember that his 
judgment is biassed by his early experiences. He fancies that no 
woman is proof against such fascinations as Jerrold’s.” 

“ And your belief?” 

“ Is that some women — many women — are utterly above such a 
possibility.” 

Old Maynard wning his comrade’s hand. “ You make me hope 
in spite of myself,- -my past experiences, — my very senses, Armitage. 
I have loaned on you so many years that I missed you sorely when 
tins trial came. If you had been there, things might not have taken 
this shape. He looks upon Chester — and it’s one thing Cliester 
hasn’t forgiven in him — as a meddling old granny ; you remember the 
time he so spoke of him last year ; but he holds you in respect, or is 
afraid of you, — which in a man of his calibre is about the same thing. 
It may not be too late for you to act. Then when he is disposed of once 
and for all, I can know what must be done — where she is concerned.” 


238 


FROM THE RANKS, 


And under no circumstances can you question Mrs. Maynard ?” 
No ! no ! If she suspected anything of this it would kill her. 
In any event, she must have no suspicion of it nowj^ 

But does she not ask ? lias she no theory about tlie missing 
photograph ? Surely she must marvel over its disappearance.’’ 

“She does ; at least, she did; but — I’m ashamed to own it, Armi- 
tage — we had to quiet her natural suspicions in some way, and I told her 
that it was my doing, — that I took it to tease Alice, put the })hotograph 
in the drawer of my desk, and hid the frame behind her sofa-pillow. 
Chester knows of the arrangement, and we had settled that when the 
picture was recovered from Mr. Jerrold he would send it to me.” 

Armitage was silent. A frown settled on his forehead, and it was 
evident that the statement was far from welcome to him. Presently he 
held forth his hand. 

“Well, good-night, sir. I must go and have a quiet think over 
this. I hope you will rest well. You need it, colonel.” 

But ^Maynard only shook his head. His heart was too troubled 
for rest of any kind. He stood gazing out towards the park, where 
the tall figure of his ex-nHjutant had disappeared among the trees. He 
heard the low-toned, pleasant chat of the ladies in the sitting-room, but 
he was in no mood to join them. He wished that Armitage had not 
gone, he felt such strength and comparative hope in his presence; 
but it was plain that even Armitage was confounded by the array of 
facts and circumstances that he had so painfully and slowly communi- 
cated to him. The colonel went drearily back to the room in which 
they had had their long conference. His wife and sister both hailed 
him as he passed the sitting-room door, and urged him to come and 
join them, — they wanted to ask about Captain Armitage, with whom 
it was evident they were much im})ressed ; but he answered that he 
had some letters to put away, and he must attend first to that. 

Among those that had been shown to the captain, mainly letters 
from Chester telling of the daily events at the fort and of his surveil- 
lance in the case of Jerrold, was one which Alice had brought him two 
days before. This had seemed to him of unusual importance, as the 
others contained nothing that tended to throw new light on the case. 
It said, — 

“ I am glad you have telegraphed for Armitage, and heartily ap- 
prove your decision to lay the whole case before him. I presume he 
can reach you by Sunday, and that by Tuesday he will be here at the 


FROM THE RANKS, 


23y 


fort and ready to act. This will be a great relief to me, for, do what 
I could to allay it, there is no concealing the fact that much speculation 
and gossip is afloat concerning the events of that unhappy night. 
Leary declares he has been close-mouthed ; the other men on guard 
know absolutely nothing, and Captain Wilton is the only officer to 
whom in my distress of mind I betrayed that there was a mystery, and 
he has pledged himself to me to say nothing. Sloat, too, has an ink- 
ling, and a big one, that Jerrold Ls the suspected party; but I never 
dreamed tliat anything had been seen or heard which in the faintest 
way connected your household with the matter, until yesterday. Then 
Leary admitted to me that two women, Mrs. Cliflbrd’s cook and the 
doctor’s nursery-maid, had asked him whether it wasn’t Lieutenant 
Jerrold he fired at, and if it was true that he was trying to get in at 
the colonel’s back door. Twice Mrs. Clifford has asked me very sig- 
nificant questions, and three times to-day have officers made remarks to 
me that indicated their knowledge of the existence of some grave 
trouble. What makes matters worse is that Jerrold, when twitted 
about his absence from reveille, loses his temper and gets confused. 
There came near being a quarrel between him and Rollins at the mess 
a day or two since. He was saying that the reason he slept through 
roll-call was the fact that he had been kept up very late at the doctor’s 
party, and Rollins happened to come in at the moment and blurted out 
that if he was up at all it must have been after he left the party, and 
reminded him that he had left before midnight with Miss Ren wick. 
This completely staggered Jerrold, who grew confused and tried to 
cover it with a display of anger. Now, two weeks ago Rollins was 
most friendly to Jerrold and stood up for him when I assailed him, 
but ever since that night he has had no word to say for him. When 
Jerrold played wrathful and accused Rollins of mixing in other men’s 
business, Rollins bounced up to him like a young bull-terrier, and I 
believe there would have been a row had not Sloat and Hoyt promptly 
interfered. Jerrold apologized, and Rollins accepted the apology, but 
has avoided him ever since, — won’t speak of him to me, now that I 
have reason to want to draw him out. As soon as Armitage gets here 
he can do 'svhat I cannot, — find out just what and who is suspected and 
talked about. 

Mr. Jerrold, of course, avoids me. He has been attending strictly 
to his duty, and is evidently confounded that I did not press the matter 
of his going to town as he did tlie day I forbade it. Mr. Hoyt’s being 


240 


FROM THE BANKS. 


too late to see him personally gave me sufficient grounds on which to ex- 
cuse it; but he seems to understand that something is impending, and 
is looking nervous and harassed. He has not renewed his request for 
leave of absence to run down to Sablon. I told him curtly it was out 
of the question/^ 

The colonel took a few strides up and down the room. It had 
come, then. The good name of those he loved was already besmirched 
by garrison gossip, and he knew that nothing but heroic measures could 
ever silence scandal. Impulse and the innate sense of “ fight’’ urged 
him to go at once to the scene, leaving his wife and her fair daughter ‘ 
here under his sister’s roof ; but Armitage and common sense said no. 
He had placed his burden on those broad gray shoulders, and, though 
ill content to wait, he felt that he was bound. Stowing away the 
letters, too nervous to sleep, too worried to talk, he stole from the 
cottage, and, with hands clasped behind his back, with low-bowed head 
he strolled forth into the broad vista of moonlit road. 

There were bright lights still burning at the hotel, and gay voices 
came floating through the summer air. The piano, too, was thrumming 
a waltz in the parlor, and two or three couples were throwing em- 
bracing, slowly-twirling shadows on the windows. Over in the bar- and 
billiard-rooms the click of the balls and the refreshing rattle of cracked 
ice told suggestively of the occupation of the inmates. Keeping on be- 
yond these distracting sounds, he slowly climbed a long, gradual ascent 
to the “ bench,” or plateau above the wooded point on which were 
grouped the glistening white buildings of the pretty summer resort, and, 
having reached the crest, turned silently to gaze at tlie beauty of the 
scene, — at the broad, flawless bosom of a summer lake all sheen and 
silver from the unclouded moon. Far to the southeast it wound among 
the bold and rock-ribbed bluffs rising from the forest growth at their 
base to shorn and rounded summits. Miles away to the southward 
twinkled the lights of one busy little town ; others gleamed and 
sparkled over towards the northern shore, close under the pole-star; 
while directly opposite frowned a massive wall of palisaded rock, 
that threw, deep and heavy and far from shore, its long reflection in 
the mirror of water. There was not a breath of air stirring in the 
heavens, not a ripple on the face of the waters beneath, save where, close 
under the bold headland down on the other side, the signal-lights, 
white and crimson and green, creeping slowly along in the shadows, re- 
vealed one of the packets ploughing her steady way to the great "rh arts 


FROM THE RANKS. 


241 


below. Nearer at hand, just shaving the long strip of sandy, wooded 
point that jutted far ont into the lake, a broad raft of timber, pushed 
by a hard-working, black-funnelled stern-wheeler, was slowly forging 
its way to the outlet of the lake, its shadowy edge sprinkled here and 
there with little sparks of lurid red, — the pilot-lights that gave warning 
of its slow and silent coming. Far down along the southern shore, 
under that black bluff-line, close to the silver water-edge, a glowing 
meteor seemed whirling through the night, and the low, distant rumble 
told of the ‘^Atlantic Express’’ thundering on its journey. Here, 
along with him on the level plateau, were other roomy cottages, some 
dark, some still sending forth a guiding ray ; while long lines of white- 
washed fence gleamed ghostly in the moonlight and were finally lost in 
the shadow of the great bluff that abruptly shut in the entire point 
and plateau and shut out all further sight of lake or land in that direc- 
tion. Far beneath he could hear the soft plash upon the sandy shore 
of the little wa^^elets that came sweeping in tlie wake of the raft-boat 
and spending their tiny strength upon the strand ; far down on the 
hotel point he could still hear the soft melody of the waltz ; he re- 
membered how the band used to play that same air, and wondered why 
it was he used to like it; it jarred him now. Presently the distant 
crack of a whip and the low rumble of wheels were heard : the omni- 
bus coming back from the station with passengers fi’om the night train. 
He was in no mood to see any one. He turned away and walked 
northward along the edge of the bench, towards the deej) shadow of 
the great shoulder of the bluff, and presently he came to a long flight 
of wooden stairs, leading from the ])lateau down to the hotel, and here 
he stopped and seated himself awhile. He did not want to go home 
yet. He wanted to be by himself, — to think and brood over his 
trouble. He saw the omnibus go round the bend and roll up to the 
hotel door- way with its load of pleasure-seekers, and heard the joyous 
welcome with which some of their number were received by waiting 
friends, but life had little of joy to him this night. He longed to go 
away, — anywhere, anywhere, could he only leave this haunting misery 
behind. He was so proud of his regiment; he had been so happy in 
bringing home to it his accomplished and gracious wile ; he had been 
so joyous in planning for the lovely times Alice was to have, — the 
Wjcial successes, the girlish triumphs, the garrison gayeties of which 
she was to be the queen, — and now, so very, very soon, all had turned 
to ashe ’ and desolation ! She was so beautiful, so sweet, winning, 
L 21 


242 


FROM THE BANKS. 


graceful. Oh, God ! could it be that one so gifted could possil^ly 1)6 
so base? He rose in nervous misery and clinclied his hands high in 
air, then sat down again with hiding, liopeless face, rocking to and fro 
as sways a man in mortal pain. It was long before he rallied and 
again wearily arose. Most of the lights were gone ; silence had settled 
down upon the sleeping point ; he was chilled with the night air and 
the dew, and stiff and heavy as he tried to walk. Down at the foot of 
the stairs he could see the night-watchman making his rounds. He did 
not want to explain matters and talk with him : he would go around. 
There was a steep pathway down into the ravine that gave into the 
lake just beyond his sister’s cottage, and this he sought and followeil, 
moving slowly and painfully, but finally reaching the grassy level of 
the pathway that connected the cottages with the wood-road up the 
bluff. Trees and shrubbery were thick on both sides, and the path 
was shaded. He turned to his right, and came down until once more 
he was in sight of the white walls of the hotel standing out there on 
the point, until close at hand he could see tlie light of his own cottage 
glimmering like faithful beacon through the trees ; and then he stopped 
short. 

A tall, slender figure — a man in dark, snug-fitting clothing — was 
creeping stealthily up to the cottage window. 

The colonel held his breath : his heart thumped violently : he 
waited, — watched. He saw the dark figure reach the blinds ; he saw 
them slowly, softly turned, and the faint light gleaming from within ; 
he saw the figure peering in between the slats, and then — God ! was it 
possible? — a low voice, a man’s voice, whispering or hoarsely mur- 
muring a name : he heard a sudden movement within the room, as 
though the occupant had heard and were replying, Coming.” His 
blood froze: it was not Alice’s room: it was his, — his and hers — his 
wife’s, — and that was surely her step approaching the window. Yes, 
the blind was quickly opened. A white-robed figure stood at the 
casement. He could see, hear, bear no more : with one mad rush he 
sprang from his lair and hurled himself upon the shadowy stranger. 

You hound ! who are you ?” 

But ’twas no shadow that he grasped. A muscular arm was round 
him in a trice, a brawny hand at his throat, a twisting, sinewy leg was 
curled in his, and he went reeling back upon the springy turf, stunned 
ind wellnigh breathless. 

When he could regain his feet and reach the casement the strangei 


FROM THE RANKS. 


243 


liad vanished ; but Mrs. Maynard lay there on the floor within, a white 
and senseless heap. 

X. 

Perhaps it was as well for all parties that Frank Armitage con- 
cluded that he must have another whiff of tobacco that night as an 
incentive to the think’’ he had promised himself. He had strolled 
through the park to the grove of trees out on the point and seated 
himself in the shadows. Here his reflections were speedily interrupted 
by the animated flirtations of a few couples who, tiring of the dance, 
ciime out into the coolness of the night and the seclusion of the grov^e, 
where their murmured words and soft laughter soon gave the ca])tain’s 
nerves a strain they could not bear. He broke cover and betook him- 
self to the very edge of the stone retaining wail out on the point. 

He w'anted to think calmly and dispassionately ; he meant to weigh 
all he had read and heard and form his estimate of the gravity of the 
case before going to bed. He meant to be impartial, — to judge her as 
he would judge any other woman so compromised ; but for the life of 
him he could not. He bore with him the mute image of her lovely 
face, wdth its clear, truthful, trustful dark eyes. He saw her as she 
stood before him on the little porch when they shook hands on their 
laughing — or his laughing — compact, for she would not laugh. How 
perfect she w^as ! — her radiant beauty, her uplifted eyes, so full of their 
self-reproach and regret at the speech she had made at his expense ! 
How exquisite was the grace of her slender, rounded form as she stood 
there before him, one slim hand half shyly extended to meet the cordial 
clasp of his own ! He wanted to judge and be just ; but that image 
dismayed him. How could he look on this picture and then — on that, 
— the one portrayed in the chain of circumstantial evidence which the 
colonel had laid before him? It was monstrous! it was treason to 
womanhood ! One look in her eyes, superb in their innocence, was too 
much for his determined impartiality. Armitage gave himself a mental 
kick for what he termed his imbecility, and went back to the hotel. 

It’s no use,” he muttered. “ I’m a slave of the weed, and can’t 
be philosophic without my pipe.” 

Ui) to liis little box of a room he climbed, found his pipe-(^se and 
tobacco-pouch, and in five minutes was strolling out to the point once 
more, when he came suddenly upon the night-watchman, — a personage 
of whose functions and authority he was entirely ignorant. The man 


244 


FROM THE BANKS. 


eye<l him narrowly, and essayed to speak. Not knowing him, and 
desiring to be alone, Armitage pushed past, and was surprised to find 
that a hand was on his shoulder and the man at his side before he had 
gone a rod. 

Beg pardon, sir,” said the watchman, gruffly, but I don’t know 
you. Are you stopping at the hotel ?” 

I am,” said Armitage, coolly, taking his pipe from his lips and 
blowing a cloud over his other shoulder. ‘‘And who may you be?” 

“ I am the watchman ; and I do not remember seeing you come 
to-dav.” 

“ Nevertheless I did.” 

“ On what train, sir ?” 

“ Th is afternoon’s uptrain.” 

“ You certainly were not on the omnibus when it got here.” 

“Very true. I walked over from beyond the school-house.” 

“You must excuse me, sir. I did not think of that; and the 
manager requires me to know everybody. Is this Major Armitage ?” 

“ Armitage is my name, but I’m not a major.” 

“ Yes, sir ; I’m glad to be set right. And the other gentleman, — 
him as was inquiring for Colonel Maynard to-night? He’s in the 
army, too, but his name don’t seem to be on the book. He only came 
in on the late train.” 

“ Another man to see Colonel Maynard ?” asked the captain, with 
sudden interest. “Just come in, you say. I’m sure I’ve no idea. 
What was he like?” 

“ I don’t know, sir. At first I thought you was him. The driver 
told me he brought a gentleman over who asked some questions about 
Colonel Maynard, but he didn’t get aboard at the de{)6t, and he didn’t 
come down to the hotel, — got off somewhere up there on the bench, and 
Jim didn’t see him.” 

“Where’s Jim?” said Armitage. “Come with me, watchman. I 
want to interview him.” 

Together they walked over to the barn, which the driver was just 
locking up after making everything secure for the night. 

“Who was it inquiring for Colonel Maynard?” asked Armitage. 

“ I don’t know, sir,” was the slow answer. “ There was a man got 
aboard as I was coming across the common there in the village at the 
station. There were several passengers from the train, and some bag- 
gage : so he may have started ahead on foot but afterwards concluded 


FROM THE RANKS. 


245 


to ride. As soon as I saw him get in I reined up and asked where he 
was going ; he had no baggage nor nuthin’, and my orders are not to 
haul anybody except people of the hotel : so he came right forward 
through the ’bus and took the seat behind me and said ’twas all riglit, 
he was going to the hotel; and he passed up a half-dollar. I told him 
that I couldn’t take the money, — that ’bus-fares were paid at the office, 
— and drove ahead. Then he handed me a cigar, and pretty soon he 
asked me if there were many people, and who had the cottages ; and 
when I told him, he asked which was Colonel Maynard’s, but he didn’t 
say he knew him, and the next thing I knew was when we got here to 
the hotel he wasn’t in the ’bus. He must have stepped back through 
all those passengers and slipped off up there on the bench. He was in 
it when we passed the little brown church up on the hill.” 

What was he like?” 

“ I couldn’t see him plain. He stepped out from behind a tree as 
we drove through the common, and came right into the ’bus. It was 
dark in there, and all I know is he was tall and had on dark clothes. 
Some of the people inside must have seen him better ; but they are all 
gone to bed, I suppose.” 

“ I will go over to the hotel and inquire, anyway,” said Armitage, 
and did so. The lights were turned down, and no one was there, ])iit he 
could hear voices chatting in quiet tones on the broad, sheltered veranda 
without, and, going thither, found three or four men enjoying a quiet 
smoke. Armitage was a man of action. He stepped at once to the 
group : 

Pardon me, gentlemen, but did any of you come over in the 
omnibus from the station to-night ?” 

“ I did, sir,” replied one of the party, removing his cigar and 
twitching off the ashes with his little finger, then looking up with the 
air of a man expectant of question. 

“ The watchman tells me a man came over who was making in- 
quiries for Colonel Maynard. May I ask if you saw or heard of such 
a person ?” 

“ A gentleman got in soon after we left the station, and when the 
driver hailed him he went forward and took a seat near him. They 
had some conversation, but I did not hear it. I only know that he got 
out again a little while before we reached the hotel.” 

Could you see him, and describe him ? I am a friend of Colo- 

21 * 


246 


FROM THE RANKH^. 


nel Maynard’s, an officer of his regiment, — which will account for my 
inquiry.” 

“ Well, yes, sir. I noticed he was very tall and slim, was dressed 
in dark clothes, and wore a dark slouched hat well down over his fore- 
head. He was what I would call a military-looking man, for I noticed 
his walk as he got off ; but he wore big spectacles, — blue or brown 
glass, I should say, — and had a heavy beard.” 

Which way did he go when he left the ’bus ?” 

lie walked northward along the road at the edge of the bluff, 
right up towards the cottages on the upper level,” was the answer. 

Armitage thanked him for his courtesy, explained that he had left 
the colonel only a short time before and that he was then expecting no 
visitor, and if one had come it was perha])s necessary that he should 
be hunted up and brought to the hotel. Then he left the porch and 
walked hurriedly through the park towards its northernmost limit. 
There to his left stood the broad roadway along which, nestling under 
shelter of the bluff, ’was ranged the line of cottages, some two-storied, 
with balconies and verandas, others low, single-storied affairs with a 
broad hall-way in the middle of each and rooms on both north and 
south sides. Farthermost north on the row, almost hidden in the trees, 
and nearest the ravine, stood Aunt Grace’s cottage, where were domi- 
ciled the colonel’s household. It was in the big bay- windowed north 
room that he and the colonel had had their long conference earlier in 
the evening. The south room, nearly opposite, was used as their parlor 
and sitting-room. Aunt Grace and Miss Fenwick slept in the little 
front rooms north and south of the hall-way, and the lights in their 
rooms were extinguished; so, too, w^as that in the ])arlor. All was 
darkness on the south and east. All was silence and peace as Arrai- 
tage approached ; but just as he reached the shadow of the stunted oak- 
tree growing in front of the house his ears were startled by an agonized 
cry, a woman’s half-stifled shriek. He bounded up the steps, seized 
the knob of the door and threw his weight against it. It was firmly 
bolted within. Loud he thundered on the panels. ‘‘ ’Tis I, — Armi- 
tage !” he called. He heard the quick patter of little feet ; the bolt 
was slid, and he rushed in, almost stumbling against a trembling, terror- 
stiicken, yet welcoming white-robed form, — Alice Fenwick, barefooted, 
with her glorious wealth of hair tumbling in dark luxuriance all (h)wn 
over the dainty night-dress, — Alice Fenwick, with pallid lace and wiki 
imploring eyes. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


247 


What is wrong he asked, in haste. 

It’s mother, — her room, — and it’s locked, and she won’t answer,” 
was the gasping reply, 

Armitage s}>rang to the rear of the hall, leaned one second against 
the opposite wall, sent his foot with mighty impulse and muscled im- 
pact against the opposing lock, and the door flew open with a crash. 
The next instant Alice was bending over her senseless mother, and the 
captain was giving a hand in much bewilderment to the panting colonel, 
wliD was striving to clamber in at the window. The ministrations of 
Aunt Grace and Alice were speedily sufficient to restore Mrs. Maynard. 
A teaspoonful of brandy administered by the colonel’s trembling hand 
helped matters materially. Then he turned to Armitage. 

‘‘ Come outside,” he said. 

Once again in the moonlight the two men faced each other. 

“Armitage, can you get a horse?” 

“ Certainly. What then ?” 

“ Go to the station, get men, if possible, and head this fellow off. 
He was here again to-night, and it was not Alice he called, but my — 
but Mrs. Maynard. I saw him; I grappled with him right here at 
the bay-window where she met him, and he hurled me to grass as 
though I’d been a child. T want a horse ! I want that man to-night. 
How did he get away from Sibley ?” 

“ Do you mean — do you think it was Jerrold ?” 

“ Good God, yes ! Who else could it be ? Disguised, of course, 
and bearded ; but the figure, the carriage, were just the same, and he 
came to this window, — to her window, — and called, and she answered. 
My God, Armitage, think of it !” 

“ Come with me, colonel. You are all unstrung,” was the captain’s 
answer as he led his broken friend away. At the front door he stopped 
one moment, then ran up the steps and into the hall, where he tapped 
lightly at the casement. 

“ What is it ?” was the low response from an invisible source. 

“Miss Alice?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ The watchman is here now. I will send him around to the win- 
dow to keep guard until our return. The colonel is a little upset by 
the shock, and I want to attend to him. We are going to the hotel a 
moment before I bring him home. You are not afraid to have him^ 
leave ycu?” 


248 


FROM THE RANKS. 


^^Not now, captain/^ 

Is Mrs. Maynard better ?’^ 

“Yes. She hardly seems to know what has happened. Indeed, 
none of us do. What was it 

“ A tramp, lookini^ for something to eat, tried to open the blinds, 
and the colonel was out here and made a jump at him. They had a 
scuffle in the shrubbery, and the tram]> got away. It frightened your 
mother ; that^s the sum of it, I think.^^ 

“ Is papa hurt 

“ No : a little bruised and shaken, and mad as a hornet. I think 
perhaps I’ll get him quieted down and sleepy in a few minutes, if you 
and Mrs. Maynard will be content to let him stay with me. I can 
talk almost any man drowsy.” 

“ Mamma seems to worry for fear he is hurt.” 

“Assure her solemnly that he hasn’t a scratch. He is simply 
fighting mad, and I’m going to try and find the tramp. Does Mrs. 
Maynard remember how he looked ?” 

“She could not see the face at all. She heard some one at the 
shutters, and a voice, and supposed of course it was papa, and threw 
open the blind.” 

“ Oh, I see. That’s all. Miss Alice. I’ll go back to the colonel. 
Good-night !” And Armitage went forth with a lighter step. 

“ One sensation knocked endwise, colonel. I have it on the best 
of authority that Mrs. Maynard so fearlessly went to the window in 
answer to the voice and noise at the shutters simply because she knew 
you were out there somewhere and she supposed it was you. How 
simple these mysteries become when a little daylight is let in on them, 
after all ! Come, I’m going to take you ov^er to my room for a stiff 
glass of grog, and then after his trampship while you go back to 
bed.” 

“Armitage, you seem to make very light of this night’s doings. 
What is easier than to connect it all with the trouble at Sibley ?” 

“ Nothing was ever more easily explained than this thing, colonel, 
and all I want now is a chance to get that tramp. Then I’ll go to 
Sibley ; and ’pon my word I believe that mystery can be made as com- 
monplace a piece of petty larceny as this was of vagrancy. Come.” 

But when Armitage left the colonel at a later hour and sought his 
own room for a brief rest he was in no such buoyant mood. A nigbt- 
search for a tramp in the dense thickets among the bluffs and woods of 


FROM THE RANKS. 


249 


Sablon could hardly be successful. It was useless to make the attempt. 
He slept but little during the cool August night, and early in the morn- 
ing mounted a horse and trotted over to the railwav-station. 

“ Has any train gone northward since last night he inquired at 
the office. 

None that stop here,” was the answer. The first train up comes 
along at 11.56.” 

“ I want to send a despatch to Fort Sibley and get an answer with- 
out delay. Can you work it for me ?” 

The agent nodded, and pushed over a package of blanks. Armi- 
tage wrote rapidly as follows : 

“ Captain Chester, 

“ Commanding Fort Sibley. 

^‘Is Jerrold there? Tell him I will arrive Tuesday. Answer. 

F. Armitage.” 

It was along towards nine o^clock when the return message came 
clicking in on the wires, was written out, and handed to the tall soldier 
with the tired blue eyes. 

He read, started, crushed the paper in his hand, and turned from 
the office. The answer was significant : 


Lieutenant Jerrold left Sibley yesterday afternoon, 
turned. Absent without leave this morning. 

u 


Not yet re- 
Chester.” 


XI. 


Nature never vouchsafed to wearied man a lovelier day of rest than 
the still Sunday on which Frank Armitage rode slowly back from the 
station. The soft, mellow tone of the church-bell, tolling the summons 
for morning service, floated out from the brown tower, and was echoed 
back from the rocky cliff glistening in the August sunshine on the 
northern blufl*. Groups of villagers hung about the steps of the little 
sanctuary and gazed with mild curiosity at the arriving parties from the 
cottages and the hotel. The big red omnibus came up with a load of 
worshi})pers, and farther away, down the vista of the road, Armitage 
^ronld see others on foot and in carriages, all wending their way to church. 
He was in no mood to meet them. The story tliat he had been out 
pursuing a tramp during the night was pretty thoroughly circulated by 
this time, he felt assured, and every one would connect his early ride to 
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250 


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the station, in some way, with the adventure that the grooms, hostlers, 
cooks, and kitchen-maids had all been dilating upon ever since daybreak. 
He dreaded to meet the curious glances of the women, and the questions 
of the few men whom he had taken so far into his confidence as to ask 
about the mysterious person who came over in the stage with them. He 
reined up his horse, and then, seeing a little pathway leading into the 
thick wood to his right, he turned in thither and followed it some fifty 
yards among bordering treasures of coreopsis and golden-rod and wild 
luxuriance of vine and foliage. Dismounting in the shade, he threw 
the reins over his arm and let his horse crop the juicy grasses, while he 
seated himself on a little stump and fell to thinking again. He could 
hear the reverent voices of one or two visitors strolling about among the 
peaceful, flower-decked graves behind the little church and only a short 
stone^s-throw away through the shrubbery. He could hear the low, 
solemn voluntary of the organ, and presently the glad outburst of 
young voices in the opening hymn, but he knew that belated ones would 
still be coming to church, and he would not come forth from his covert 
until all were out of the way. Then, too, he was glad of a little longer 
time to think ; he did not want to tell the colonel the result of his 
morning investigations. 

To begin with : the watchman, the driver, and the two men whom 
he had questioned were all of an opinion as to the character of the 
stranger: ‘‘he was a military man.” The passengers described his 
voice as that of a man of education and social position ; the driver 
and passengers declared his walk and carriage to be that of a soldier : 
he was taller, they said, than the tall, stalwart Saxon captain, but by 
no means so heavily built. As to age, they could not tell : his beard 
was black and curly, — no gray hairs ; his movements were quick and 
elastic ; but his eyes were hidden by those colored glasses, and his fore- 
head by the slouch of that broad-brimmed felt hat. 

At the station, while awaiting the answer to his despatch, Armitage 
had questioned the agent as to whether any man of that description had 
arrived by the night train from the north. He had seen none, he said, 
but there was Larsen over at the post-office store, who came down on 
that train ; perhaps he could tell. Oddly enough, Mr. Larsen recalled 
just such a party, — tall, slim, dark, dark-bearded, with blue glasses 
and dark hat and clothes, — but he was bound for Lakeville, the station 
beyond, and he remained in the car when. he, Larsen, got off. Larsen 
remembered the man well, because he sat in the rear corner of the 


jfROM THE RANKS. 


251 


smoker and had nothing to say to anybody, but kept reading a news- 
paper ; and tlie way he came to take note of him was that wliile stand- 
ing with two friends at that end of the car they happened to be right 
around the man. Tlie Saturday evening train from the city is always 
crowded with peo})le from the river towns who have been up to market 
or the matmeeSy and even the smoker was filled with standing men 
until they got some thirty miles down. Larsen wanted to light a fresh 
cigar, and offered one to each of his friends : then it was found they 
had no matches, and one of them, who had been drinking a little and 
felt jovial, turned to the dark stranger and asked him for a light, and 
the man, without speaking, handed out a little silver match-box. It 
was just then that the conductor came along, and Larsen saw his ticket. 
It was a round trip’’ to Lakeville : he was evidently going there for 
a visit, and therefore, said Larsen, he didn’t get off at Sablon Station, 
which was six miles above. 

But Armitage knew better. It was evident that he had quietly 
slipped out oil the platform of the car after the regular passengers had 
got out of the way, and let himself oft* into the darkness on the side 
opposite the station. Thence he had an open and unimpeded walk of 
a few hundred yards until he reached the common, and then, when 
overtaken by the hotel omnibus, he could jump aboard and ride. 
There was only one road, only one way over to the hotel, and he could 
not miss it. There was no doubt now that, whoever he was, the night 
visitor had come down on the evening train from the city ; and his 
return ticket would indicate that he meant to go back the way he came. 
It was half-past ten when that train arrived. It was nearly midnight 
when the man appeared at the cottage window. It was after two when 
Armitage gave up the search and went to bed. It was possible for the 
man to have walked to Lakeville, six miles south, and reached the 
station there in abundant time to take the up-train which passed Sablon, 
without stopping, a little before daybreak. If he took that train, and 
if he was Jerrold, he would have been in the city before seven, and 
could have been at Fort Sibley before or by eight o’clock. But Chester’s 
despatch showed clearly that at 8.30 — the hour for signing the company 
morning reports — Mr. Jerrold was not at his post. Was he still in the 
neighborhood and waiting for the noon train? If so, could he be con- 
fronted on the cars and accustxl of his crime? He looked at his watch ; 
it was nearly eleven, and he must push on to the hotel before that hour, 
report to the colonel, then hasten back to the station. He sprang to his 


252 


FROM THE RANKS, 


feet, and was just about to mount, when a vision of white and scarlet 
came suddenly into view. There, within twenty feet of him, making 
her dainty way through the shrubbery from the direction of the church, 
sunshine and shadow alternately flitting across her lovely face and form, 
Alice Renwick stepped forth into the pathway, and, shading her eyes 
with her hand, gazed along the leafy lane towards the road, as though 
expectant of another’s coming. Then, attracted by the beauty of the 
golden-rod, she bent and busied herself with gathering in the yellow 
sprays. Armitage, with one foot in the stirrup, stood stock-still, half 
in surprise, half stunned by a sudden and painful thought. Could it 
be that she was there in hopes of meeting — any one ? 

He retook his foot from the stirrup, and, relaxing the rein, still 
stood gazing at her over his horse’s back. That placid quadruped, 
whose years had been spent in these pleasant by-ways and were too 
many to warrant an exhibition of coltish surprise, promptly lowered 
his head and resumed his occupation of grass-nibbling, making a little 
crunching noise which Miss Renwick might have heard, but apparently 
did not. She was singing very softly to herself, — 

“ Daisy, tell my fortune, pray : 

He loves me not, — he loves me.” 

And still Armitage stood and gazed, while she, absorbed in her 
pleasant task, still pulled and plucked at the golden-rod. In all his 
life no vision of fair women” had been to him fair and sacred and 
exquisite as this. Down to the tip of her arched and slender foot, 
peeping from beneath the broidered hem of her snowy skirt, she stood 
the lady born and bred, and his eyes looked on and worshipped her, — 
worshipped, yet questioned. Why came she here ? Absorbed, he re- 
leased his hold on the rein, and Dobbin, nothing loath, reached with 
his long, lean neck for further herbage, and stepped in among the 
trees. Still stood his negligent master, fascinated in his study of the 
lovely, graceful girl. ^ Again she raised her head and looked north- 
ward along the winding, shaded wood-path. A few yards away were 
other great clusters of the wild flowers she loved, more sun- kissed 
golden-rod, and, with a little murmur of delight, gathering her dainty 
skiiis in one hand, she flitted up the pathway like an unconscious 
humming-bird garnering the sweets from every blossom. A little 
farther on the pathway bent among the trees, and she would be hidden 


FROM THE RANKS. 


25 ?. 


from his sight; but still he stood and studied her every movement, 
drank in the soft, cooing melody of her voice as she sang, and then 
there came a sweet, solemn strain from the brown, sunlit walls just 
visible through the trees, and reverent voices and the resonant chords of 
the organ thrilled through the listening woods the glorious anthem of 
the church militant. 

At the first notes she lifted up her queenly head and stood, listen- 
ing and appreciative. Then he saw her rounded throat swelling like a 
bird’s, and the rich, full tones of her voice rang out through the 
welcoming sunshine, and the fiuttering wrens, and pruud red-breasted 
robins, and rival song-queens, the brown-winged thrushes, — even the 
impudent shrieking jays, — seemed to hush and listen. Dobbin, fairly 
astonished, lifted up his hollow-eyed head and looked amazed ly at the 
white songstress whose scarlet sash and neck-ribbons gleamed in such 
vivid contrast to the foliage about her. A wondering little cotton- 
tail” rabbit, shy and wild as a hawk, came darting through the bushes 
into the sunshiny patchwork on the path, and then, uptilted and with 
quivering ears and nostrils and wide-staring eyes, stood paralyzed with 
helpless amaze, ignoring the tall man in gray as did the singer herself. 
Kicher, rounder, fuller grew the melody, as, abandoning herself to the 
impulse of the sacred hour, she joined with all her girlish heart in the 
words of j^raise and thanksgiving, — in the glad and triumphant chorus 
of the Te Deum. From beginning to end she sang, now ringing and 
exultant, now soft and plaintive, following the solemn words of the 
ritual, — sweet and low and suppliant in the petition, ‘^We therefore 
pray Thee help Thy servants whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy 
precious blood,” confident and exulting in the declaration, “ Thou 
art the King of Glory, O Christ,” and then rich with fearless trust 
and faith in the thrilling climax, ^^Let me never be confounded.” 
Arinitage listened as one in a trance. From the depth of her heart 
the girl had joined her glorious voice to the chorus of praise and ado- 
ration, and now that all was stilled once more her head had fallen 
forward on her bosom, her hands, laden with golden-rod, were joined 
together : it seemed as though she were lost in praver. ^ 

And this was the girl, th^is the pure, God-worshipping, God-fearing 
woman, who for one black instant he had dared to fancy had come here 
expectant of a meeting with the man whose aim had been frustrated 
but the night before ! He could have thrown himself at her feet and 
implored her pardon. He did step forth, and then, hat in hand, baring 

22 


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his proud Saxou head as his forefathers would have uncovered to their 
monarch, he waited until she lifted up her eyes and saw him, and 
knew by the look in his frank face that he had stood by, a mute listener 
to her unstudied devotions. A lovely flush rose to her very temj)les, 
and her eyes drooped tlieir pallid lids until the long lashes swept the 
crimson of her cheeks. 

Have you been here, captain ? I never saw you,” was her flutter- 
ing question. 

I rode in here on my way back from the station, not caring to 
meet all the good people going to church. I felt like an outcast.” 

I, too, am a recreant to-day. It is the first time I have missed 
service in a long while. Mamma felt too unstrung to come, and I 
had given up the idea, but both she and Aunt Grace urged me. I was 
too late for the omnibus, and walked up, and then I would not go in 
because service was begun, and I wanted to be home again before noon. 
I cannot bear to be late at church, or to leave it until everything is ov^er, 
but I can’t be away from mother so long to-day. Shall we w^alk that 
way now ?” 

“ In a minute. I must find my horse. He is in here somewhere. 
Tell me how the colonel is feeling, and Mrs. Maynard.” 

‘‘ Both very nervous and worried, though I see nothing extraordi- 
nary in the adventure. We read of poor hungry tramps everywhere, 
and they rarely do harm.” 

I wonder a little at your venturing here in the wood-paths, after 
what occurred last night.” 

‘‘ Why, Captain Armitage, no one would harm me here, so close to 
the church. Indeed, I never thought of such a thing until you men- 
tioned it. Did you discover anything about the man ?” 

“ Nothing definite ; but I must be at the station again to meet the 
up-train, and have to see the colonel meantime. Let me find Dobbin, 
or whatever they call this venerable relic I’m riding, and then I’ll 
escort you home.” 

But Dobbin had strayed deeper into the wood. It was some 
minutes before the captain could find and catch him. The rich melody 
of sacred music was again thrilling through the perfumed woods, the 
glad sunshine was pouring its warmth and blessing over all tlie earth, 
glinting on bluif and brake and palisaded clifir, the birds were all sing- 
ing their rivalling psaltery, and Nature seemed pouring forth its homage 
to the Creator and Preserver of all on this His holy day, when Frank 


FROM THE RANKS. 


255 


Armitage onc(3 more reached the bowered lane where, fairest, sweetest 
sight of all, his lady stood waiting him. She turned to him as she 
heard the hoof-beat on the turf, and smiled. 

Can we wait and hear that hymn through 
Ay. Sing it.” 

She looked suddenly in his face. Something in the very tone in 
which he spoke startled her, — something deeper, more fervent, than she 
had ever heard before, — and the expression in the steady, deep-blue eyes 
was another revelation. Alice Renwick had a woman’s intuition, and 
yet she had not known this man a day. The color again mounted to 
her temples, and her eyes fell after one quick glance. 

I heard you joining in the Te Deum,” he urged. Sing once 
more: I love it. There, they are just beginning again. Do you 
know the words ?” 

She nodded, then raised her head, and her glad young voice carolled 
through the listening woods ; 

“Holy, holy, holy I All 

Heaven’s triumphant choir shall sing, 

When the ransomed nations fall 
At the footstool of their King : 

Then shall saints and seraphim, 

Hearts and voices, swell one hymn 
Round the throne with full accord. 

Holy, holy, holy Lord I” 

There was silence when the music ceased. She had turned her face 
towards the church, and, as the melody died away in one prolonged, 
triumphant chord, she still stood in reverent attitude, as though listen- 
ing for the words of benediction. He, too, was silent, but his eyes were 
fixed on her. He was thirty-five, she not twenty. He had lived his 
soldier life wifeless, but, like other soldiers, his heart had had its rubs 
and aches in the days gone by. Years before he had thought life a 
black void when the girl he fancied while yet he wore the Academic 
gray calmly told him she preferred another. Nor had the intervening 
years been devoid of their occasional yearnings for a mate of his own in 
the isolation of the frontier or the monotony of garrison life ; but flitting 
fancies had left no trace upon his strong heart. The love of his life 
only dawned upon him at this late day when he looked into her glo- 
rious eyes and his whole soul went out in passionate worship of the fair 


256 


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girl whose presence made that sunlit lane a heaven. Were he to live a 
thousand years, no scene on earth could rival in his eyes the love- 
haunted w'oodland pathway wherein like forest queen she stood, the 
sunshine and leafy shadows dancing over her graceful form, the golden • 
rod enhancing her dark and glowing beauty, the sacred influences of the 
day throwing their mystic charm about her as though angels guarded 
and shielded her from harm. His life had reached its climax ; his fate 
was sealed ; his heart and soul were centred in one sweet girl, — and all 
in one brief hour in the woodland lane at Sablon. 

She could not fail to see the deep emotion in his eyes as at last she 
turned to break the silence. 

Shall we go 2” she said, simply. 

It is time ; but I wish we could remain.” 

You do not go to church very often at Sibley, do you ?” 

I have not, heretofore ; but you would teach me to worship.” 

You have taught me,” he muttered below his breath, as he extended 
a hand to assist her down the sloping bank towards the avenue. She 
looked up quickly once more, pleased, yet shy, and shifted her great 
bunch of golden-rod so that she could lay her hand in his and lean upon 
its steady strength down the incline; and so, hand in hand, with old 
Dobbin ambling placidly behind, they passed out from the shaded path- 
way to the glow and radiance of the sunlit road. 

XII. 

Colonel Maynard, I admit everything you say as to the weight of 
the evidence,” said Frank Armitage, twenty minutes later, ‘‘but it is 
my faith — understand me: my faith, I say — that she is utterly inno- 
cent. As for that damnable letter, 1 do not believe it was ever written 
to her. It is some other woman.” 

“What other is there, or was there?” was the colonefls simple 
reply. 

“ Tiiat is what I mean to find out. Will you have my baggage 
sent after me to-night ? I am going at once to the station, and thence 
to Sibley. I will write you from there. If the midnight visitor should 
prove to have been Jerrold, he can be made to explain. I have always 
held him to be a conceited fop, but never either crack-brained or devoid 
of principle. There is no time for explanation noto. Good-by ; and 
keep a good lookout. That fellow may be here again.” 

And in an hour more Armitage was skimming along the winding 


FROM THE RANKS. 


257 


river-side en route to Sibley. He had searched the train from pilot to 
rear platform, and no man who in the faintest degree resembled Mr. 
Jerrold was on board. He had wired to Chester that he would reach 
the fort that evening, but would not resume duty for a few days. He 
made another search through the train as they neared the city, and still 
there was no one who in stature or appearance corresponded with the 
descriptions given him of the sinewy visitor. 

Late in the afternoon Chester received him as he alighted from the 
train at the little station under the clitf. It was a beautiful day, and 
numbers of people were driving or riding out to the fort, and the high 
bridge over the gorge was constantly resounding to the thunder of 
hoofs. Many others, too, had come out on the train ; for the evening 
dress-parade always attracted a swarm of visitors. A corporal of the 
guard, with a couple of men, was on hand to keep vigilant eye on the 
arrivals and to persuade certain proscribed parties to re-enter the cars 
and go on, should they attempt to revisit the post, and the faces of 
these were lighted up as they saw their old adjutant ; but none others 
of the garrison appeared. 

Let us wait a moment and get these people out of the way,” said 
Armitage. “ I want to talk with you. Is Jerrold back ?” 

Yes. He came in just ten minutes after I telegraphed to you, 
was present at inspection, and if it had not been for your despatch thia 
morning I should not have known he had remained out of quarters 
He appeared to resent my having been to his quarters, — calls it spying, 
I presume.” 

What permission had he to be aw^ay ?” 

I gave him leave to visit town on personal business yesterday 
afternoon. He merely asked to be away a few hours to meet friends in 
town, and Mr. Hall took tattoo roll-call for him. As I do not require 
any other officer to report the time of his return, I did not exact it of 
him ; hut of course no man can be away after midnight without special 
permission, and he was gone all night. What is it, Armitage ? Has 
he followed her down there ?” 

Somebody was there last night and capsized the colonel pretty much 
as he did you the night of the ladder episode,” said Armitage, coolly. 

By heaven ! and I let him go !” 

How do you know ftwas he ?” 

Who else could it be, Armitage ?” 

That^s what the colonel asks ; but it isn’t clear to me yet awhile.” 

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I wish it were less clear to me,” said Chester, gloomily. The 
worst is that the story is spreading like a pestilence all over the pos'. 
The women have got hold of it, and there is all manner of talk. I 
shouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Hoyt had to be taken violently ill. She 
has ^yritten to invite Miss Kenwick to visit her, as it is certain that 
Colonel and Mrs. Maynard cannot come, and Hoyt came to me in a 
horror of amaze yesterday to know if there were any truth in the rumor 
that I had caught a man coming out of Mrs. Maynard’s window the 
other night. I would tell him nothing, and he says the ladies der lare 
they won’t go to the german if she does. Heavens ! I’m thankful you 
are come. The thing has been driving me wild these last twelve hours. 
I wanted to go away myself. Is she coming up?” 

No, she isn’t ; but let me say this, Chester : that whenever she is 
ready to return I shall be ready to escort her.” 

Chester looked at his friend in amazement, and without speaking. 

Yes, I see you are astonished, but you may as well understand the 
situation. I have heard all the colonel could tell, and have even seen 
the letter, and since she left here a mysterious stranger has appeared by 
night at Sablon, at the cottage window, though it happened to be her 
mother’s this time, and 1 don’t believe Alice itenwick knows the first 
thing about it.” 

Armitage, are you in love?” 

Chester, I am in my sound senses. Now come and show me the 
ladder, and where you found it, and tell me the whole story over again. 
I think it grows interesting. One moment: has he that picture yet?” 

“ I suppose so. I don’t know. In these last few days everybody 
is fighting shy of him. He thinks it is my doing, and looks black 
and sulky at me, but is too proud or too much afraid of consequences to 
ask the reason of the cold shoulders and averted looks. Gray has taken 
seven days’ leave and gone off with that little girl of his to place her 
with relatives in the East. He has heard the stories, and it is pre- 
sumed that some of the women have told her. She was down sick 
here a day or two.” 

Well, now for the window and the ladder. I want to see the 
outside through your eyes, and then I will view the interior with my 
own. The colonel bids me do so.” 

Together they slowly climbed the long stairway leading up the face 
of the cliff’. Chester stopped for a breathing-spell more than once. 


FROM THE BANKS. 


259 


^‘You^re all out of condition, man,” said the younger captain, 
pausing impatiently. ‘‘ What has undone you ?” 

This trouble, and nothing else. By gad ! it has unstrung the 
whole garrison, I believe. You never saw our people fall off' so in 
their shooting. Of course we expected Jerrold to go to pieces, but 
nobody else.” 

There were others that seemed to fall away, too. Where was 
that cavalry-team that was expected to take the skirmish medal away 
from us ?” 

Sound as a dollar, every man, with the single exception of their 
big sergeant. I don’t like to make ugly comparisons to a man whom 
I believe to be more than half interested in a woman, but it makes 
me think of the old story about Medusa. One look at her face is too 
much for a man. That Sergeant McLeod went to grass the instant he 
caught sight of her, and never has picked up since.” 

Consider me considerably more than half interested in the woman 
in this case, Chester : make all the comparisons that you like, })rovided 
they illumine matters as you are doing now, and tell me more of this 
Sergeant McLeod. What do you mean by his catching sight of' her and 
going to grass ?” 

I mean he fell flat on his face the moment he saw her, and hasn’t 
been in good form from that moment to this. The doctor says it’s 
heart-disease.” 

“ That’s what the colonel says troubles Mrs. Maynard. She was 
senseless and almost pulseless some minutes last night. What manner 
of man is McLeod ?” 

‘‘A tall, slim, dark-eyed, swarthy fellow, — a man with a history 
and a mystery, I judge.” 

A man with a history, — a mystery, — who is tall, slim, has dark 
eyes and swarthy complexion, and faints away at sight of Miss Ben- 
wick, might be said to possess peculiar characteristics, — family traits, 
some of them. Of course you’ve kept an eye on McLeod. Where is 
he?” 

Chester stood leaning on the rail, breathing slowly and heavily. 
His eyes dilated as he gazed at Armitage, who was surveying him 
coolly, though the tone in which he spoke betrayed a new interest and 
a vivid one. 

I confess I never thought of him in connection with this affair/' 
said Chester. 


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There’s the one essential point of difference between ns/’ was tlie 
reply. You go in on the supposition that there is only one solution 
to this thing, and that a woman must be dishonored to begin with. ^ I 
believe there can be several solutions, and that there is only one thing 
in the lot that is at all impossible.” 

“ What’s that ?” 

^^Miss Renwick’s knowledge of that night’s visitor, or of any 
other secret or sin. I mean to work other theories first ; and the 
McLeod trail is a good one to start on. Where can I get a look at 
him ?” 

Somewhere out in the Rockies by this time. He was ordered back 
fo his troop five days ago, and they are out scouting at this moment, 
unless I’m vastly mistaken. You have seen the morning despatches ?” 

“About the Indians? Yes. Looks squally at the Spirit Rock 
reservation. Do you mean that McLeod is there ?” 

“ That’s where his troop ought to be by this time. There is too 
small a force on the trail now, and more will have to go if a big out- 
break is to be prevented.” 

“ Then he has gone, and I cannot see him. Let me look at the 
window, then.” 

A few steps brought them to the terrace, and there, standing by the 
west wall and looking up at the closed slats of the dormer-window, 
Captain Chester retold the story of his night-adventure. Armitage 
listened attentively, asking few questions. When it was finished, the 
latter turned and walked to the rear door, which opened on the terrace. 
It was locked. 

“The servants are having a holiday, I presume,” he said. “So 
much the better. Ask the quartermaster for the key of the front door, 
and I’ll go in while everybody is out looking at dress-parade. There 
goes first call now. Let your orderly bring it to me here, will you ?” 

Ten minutes later, with beating heart, he stood and uncovered his 
handsome head and gazed silently, reverently around him. He was in 
her room. 

It was dainty as her own dainty self. The dressing-table, the 
windows, the pretty little white bevl, the broad, inviting lounge, the 
work-table and basket, the very wash-stand, were all trimmeil and 
dei^ked alike, — white and yellow prevailing:. White lace curtains 
dra[)ed the window on the west — that fateful window — and the two 
that opened out on the roof of the piazza. White lace curtains draped 


FROM THE BANKS. 


2G1 


the bed, the dressing-table, and the wash-stand ; white lace, or some 
equally flimsy and feminine material, hung about her book-shelves and 
work-table and over the lounge ; and bows of bright yellow ribbon 
were everywhere, yellow pin-cushions and wall-pockets hung about the 
toilet-table, soft yellow rugs lay at the bed- and lounge-side, and a sun- 
shiny tone was given to the whole apartment by the shades of yellow 
silk that hung close to the windows. 

On the wall were some choice etchings and a few foreign photographs. 
On the book-shelves were a few volumes of poetry, and the prose of 
George Eliot and our own Hawthorne. Hanging on pegs in the corner 
of the simple army room, covered by a curtain, were some heavy outer- 
garments, — an ulster, a travelling coat and cape of English make, and 
one or two dresses that were apparently too thick to be used at this 
season of the year. He drew aside the curtain one moment, took a 
brief glance at the garments, raised the hem of a skirt to his li{)s, and 
turned quickly away. A door led from the room to the one behind it, 
— a spare bedroom, evidently, that was lighted only from the back of 
the house and had no side-window at all. Another door led to the hall, 
a broad, old-fashioned affair, and crossing this he stood in the big front 
room occupied by the colonel and his wife. This was furnished almost 
as luxuriously (from an army point of view) as that of Miss Renwick, 
but not in white and yellow. Armitage smiled to see the evidences of 
Mrs. Maynard’s taste and handiwork on every side. In the years he 
had been the old soldier’s adjutant nothing could have exceeded the 
simplicity with which the colonel surrounded himself. Now it was 
something akin to Sybaritish elegance, thought the ca})tain ; but all the 
same he made his deliberate survey. There was the big dressing-table 
and bureau on which had stood that ravished picture, — that photograph 
of the girl he loved which others were able to speak of, and one man to 
appropriate feloniously, while yet he had never seen it. His impulse 
was to go to Jerrold’s quarters and take him by the throat and demand 
it of him ; but what right had he? How knew he, even, that it was 
now there ? In view of the words that Chester had used towards him, 
Jerrold must know of the grievous danger in which he stood. That 
photograph would prove most damaging evidence if discovered. Very 
probably, after yielding to his vanity and showing it to Sloat he meant 
to get it back. Very certainly, after hearing Chester’s words he must 
have determined to lose no time in getting rid of it. He was no fool, 
if he was a coxcomb. 


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Looking around the half-darkened room, Armitage lingered long 
over the photogra[)hs which hung about the dressing-table and over the 
mantel, — several prettily-framed duplicates of those already described 
as appearing in the album. One after another he took them in his 
hands, bore them to the window, and studied them attentively : some 
were not replaced without a long, lingering kiss. He had not ventured 
to disturb an item in her room. He would not touch the knob of a 
drawer or attempt to open anything she had closed, but here in quarters 
where his colonel could claim joint partnership he felt less sentiment or 
delicacy. He closed the hall door and tried the lock, turning the knob 
to and fro. Then he reopened the door and swung it upon its hinges. 
For a wonder, neither lock nor hinges creaked. The door worked 
smoothly and with little noise. Then he similarly tried the door of 
her room. It was in equally good working order, — quite free from the 
squeak and complaint with which quartermasters^ locks and hinges 
are apt to do their reluctant duty. The discovery pleased him. It 
was possible for one to open and close these portals noiselessly, if need 
be, and without disturbing sleepers in either room. Returning to the 
east chamber, he opened the shades, so as to get more light, and his eye 
fell upon an old album lying on a little table that stood by the bedside. 
There was a night-lamp upon the table, too, — a little affair that could 
hold only a thimbleful of oil and was intended, evidently, to keep 
merely a faint glow during the night hours. Other volumes — a Bible, 
some devotional books, like The Changed Cross,^^ and a Hymnal or 
two — were also there ; but the album stood most prominent, and Armi- 
tage curiously took it up and opened it. 

There were only half a dozen photographs in the affair. It was 
rather a case than an album, and was intended apparently for only a 
few family pictures. There was but one that interested him, and this 
he examined intently, almost excitedly. It represented a little girl of 
nine or ten years, — Alice, undoubtedly, — with her arms clasped about 
the neck of a magnificent St. Bernard dog and looking up into the 
handsome features of a tall, slender, dark-eyed, black-haired boy of 
sixteen or thereabouts ; and the two were enough alike to be brother 
and sister. Who, then, was this boy? 

Armitage took the photograph to the window and studied it care- 
fully. Parade was over, and the troops were marching back to their 
quarters. The band was playing gloriously as it came tramping into 
the quadrangle, and the captain could not but glance out at his own old 


FROM THE RANKS. 


263 


company as in compact column of fours it entered the gras.^y diamond 
and swung off towards the barracks. He saw a knot of officers, too, 
turning the corner by the adjutant’s office, and for a moment he lowered 
the album to look. Mr. Jerrold was not of the number that came 
sauntering up the walk, dropping away by ones or twos as they 
reached their doors and unbuckled their belts or removed their helmets 
in eager haste to get out of the constraint of full dress. But in an- 
other moment Jerrold, too, appeared, all alone, walking rapidly and 
nervously. Armitage watched him, and could not but see how other 
men turned away or gave him the coolest possible nod as he passed. 
The tall, slender lieutenant was handsomer even than when he last saw 
him ; and yet there was gloom and worry on the dark beauty of his 
face. Nearer and nearer he came, and had passed the quarters of the 
other officers and was almost at the door of his own, when Armitage 
saw a little, wiry soldier in full dress uniform running across the parade 
as though in pursuit. He recognized Merrick, one of the scapegraces 
of his company, and wondered why he should be chasing after his tem- 
porary commander. Just as Jerrold was turning under the piazza the 
soldier seemed to make himself heard, and the lieutenant, with an angry 
frown on his face, stopped and confronted him. 

“ I told you not to come to me again,” he said, so loud that every 
word was audible to the captain standing by the open window above. 

What do you mean, sir, by following me in this way?” 

The reply was inaudible. Armitage could see the little soldier 
standing in the respectful position of attention,” looking up and evi- 
dently pleading. 

‘‘I wmn’t do it until I’m ready,” was again heard in Jerrold’s angry 
tones, though this time the lieutenant glanced about, as though to see if 
others were within earshot. There was no one, apparently, and he grew 
more confident. You’ve been drinking again to-day, Merrick ; you’re 
not sober now ; and I won’t give you money to get maudlin and go to 
blabbing secrets on. No, sir ! Go back to your quarters, and stay there.” 

The little soldier must indeed have been drinking, as the lieutenant 
declared. Armitage saw that he hesitated, instead of obeying at once, 
and that his flushed face was angrily working, then that he was argu- 
ing with his superior and talking louder. This was contrary to all the 
captain’s ideas of proper discipline, even though he was indignant at the 
officer for permitting himself to be placed in so false and undignified a 
position. Jerrold’s words, too, had acquired a wide significance; but 


264 


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tliey were feeble as compared with the sudden outburst that came from 
the soldier’s lips : 

By God, lieutenant, you bribed me to silence to cover your tracks, 
and then you refuse to pay. If you don’t want me to tell what I know, 
the sooner you pay that money the better.” 

This was more than Armitage could stand. He went down-stairs 
three at a jump and out through the colonel’s garden with quick, im- 
petuous steps. Jerrold’s furious face turned ashen at the sight, and 
Merrick, with one amazed and frightened look at his captain, faced 
about and slunk silently away. To him Armitage paid no further 
attention. It was to the officer he addressed himself : 

“ Mr. Jerrold, I have heard pretty much all this conversation. It 
simply adds to the evil report with which you have managed to sur- 
round yourself. Step into your quarters. I must see you alone.” 

Jerrold hesitated. He was thunderstruck by the sudden appearance 
of the captain whom he had believed to be hundreds of miles away. He 
connected his return unerringly with the web of trouble which had been 
weaving about him of late. He conceived himself to have been most 
unjustly spied upon and suspected, and was full of resentment at the 
conduct of Captain Chester. But Chester was an old granny, who 
sometimes made blunders and had to back down. It was a different 
thing when Armitage took hold. Jerrold looked sulkily into the clear, 
stern, blue eyes a moment, and the first impulse of rebellion wilted. 
He gave one irresolute glance around the quadrangle, then motioned 
with his hand to the open door. Something of the old, jaunty. Creole 
lightness of manner reasserted itself. 

“ After you, captain,” he said. 

XTIt. 

Once within-doors, it was too dark for Armitage to see the features 
of his lieutenant; and he had his own reasons for desiring to read 
them. Mr. Jerrold, on the other hand, seemed disposed to keep in 
the shadows as much as possible. He made no movement to open the 
shutters of the one window which admitted light from the front, and 
walked back to his bedroom door, glanced in there as though to see 
that there were no occupants, then carefully closed it as he returned to 
face his captain. He took off his helmet and placed it on the centre- 
table, then, thrusting his thumbs inside the handsome, gold-broidercd 
sword-belt, stood in a jaunty attitude but with a very uneasy look in 


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his eyes to hear what his senior might have to say. Between the two 
men an invitation to sit would have been a superfluity. Neither had 
ever remained long enough in the other’s quarters, since the exchange 
of the first calls when Jerrold came to the garrison, to render a chair 
at all necessary. 

“ Be good enough to strike a light, Mr. Jerrold,” said Armitage, 
presently, seeing that his unwilling host made no effort on his own 
account. 

I proposed going out at once, captain, and presume you cannot 
have any very extended remarks to make.” 

You cannot see the writing I have to call your attention to with- 
out a light. I shall detain you no longer than is necessary. Had you 
an engagement?” 

Nothing of great consequence. I presume it will kee]).” 

It will have to. The matter I have come upon will admit no 
further delay. Light your lamp, if you please.” 

And Jerrold did so, slowly and with much reluctance. He wiped 
his forehead vigorously the instant the flame began to splutter, but as 
the clear, steady light of the argand gradually spread over the little 
room Armitage could see the sweat again beading his forehead, and the 
dark eyes were glancing nervously about, and the hands that were so 
firm and steady and fine the year before and held the Springfield in so, 
light yet immovable an aim were twitching now. It was no wonder 
Jerrold’s score had dropped some thirty per cent. His nerve had gone 
to pieces. 

Armitage stood and watched him a moment. Then he slowly 
spoke : 

I have no desire to allude lo the subject of your conversation 
with Merrick. It was to put an end to such a thing — not to avail 
myself of any information it might give — that I hurried in. lYe will 
put that aside and go at once to the matter that brings me back. You 
are aware, of course, that your conduct has compromised a woman’s 
name, and that the garrison is talking of nothing else.” 

Jerrold grasped the back of a chair with one slender brown hand, 
and looked furtively about as though for some hope of escape. Some- 
thing like a startled gulp seemed to work his throat-muscles an instant ; 
then he stammered his reply : 

I don’t know what you mean.” 

You do know what I mean. Captain Chester has already told you.” 

M 23 


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Captain Chester came in here and made an unauthorized inspec- 
tion of my quarters because he heard a shot fired by a sentry. I was 
out : I don’t deny that. But he proceeded to say all manner of insult- 
ing and unwarrantable things, and tried to force me to hand in a resig- 
nation, simply because I was out of quarters after taps. I could ac- 
count for his doing something so idiotic, but I’m at a loss to compre- 
hend your taking it up.” 

^he most serious allegation ever made against an officer of the 
regiment is made against you, the senior lieutenant of my company, 
and the evidence furnished me by the colonel and by Captain Chester 
is of such a character that, unless you can refute it and clear her name, 
you will have a settlement with me to start with, and youi dismissal 
from the regiment ” 

‘^Settlement with you? What concern have you in the matter?” 
interrupted Jerrold. 

“Waste no words on that, Mr. elerrold. Understand that where 
her name is concerned no man on earth is more interested than I. Now 
answer me. You were absent from youi quarters for some hours after 
the doctor’s party. Somebody believed to have been you was seen and 
fired at for refusing to halt at the order of Captain Chester at 3.30 in 
the morning. The ladder that usually hung at your fence was found at 
the colonel’s while you were out, and that night a woman’s name was 
compromised beyond repair unless you can repair it. Unless you prove 
beyond perad venture where you were both that night and last night, — 
prove beyond question that you were not where you are believed to 
have been, — her name is stained and yours blackened forever. There 
are other things you must fully explain ; but these first.” 

Jerrold’s face was growing gray and sickly. He stared at the stern 
eyes before him, and could make no answer. His lips moved dryly, 
but made no sound. 

“ Come, I want to hear from you. Where were you, if not with, or 
seeking, her ? Name your place and witnesses.” 

“ By God, Captain Armitage, the army is no longer a place for a 
gentleman, if his every movement is to be spied upon like this !” 

“ The world is no place for a man of your stamp, is perhaps a better 
way of putting it,” said Armitage, whose fingers were twitching con- 
vulsively, and whose whole frame quivered with the effort he was 
making to restrain the rage and indignation that consumed him. He 
'^uld not — he would not — believe in her guilt. He must have this 


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267 


man’s proof, no matter how it might damn him for good and all, no 
matter whom else it might involve, so long as it cleared lier precious 
name. He must be patient, he must be calm and resolute ; but the 
man’s cold-blooded, selfish, criminal concealment nearly maddened 
him. With infinite effort he controlled himself, and went on : 

But it is of her I’m thinking, not of you. It is the name you 
have compromised and can clear, and should clear, even at the expense 
of your own, — in fact, Mr. Jerrold, must clear. Now will you tell 
me where you were and how you can prove it?” 

“ I decline to say. I won’t be cross-questioned by men who have 
no authority. Captain Chester said he would refer it to the colonel ; 
and when he asks I will answer, — not until then.” 

I ask in his name. I am authorized by him, for he is not well 
enough to meet the ordeal.” 

“ You say so, and I don’t mean to dispute your word. Captain 
Armitage, but I have a right to demand some proof. How am I to 
know he authorized you ?” 

He himself gave me this letter, in your handwriting,” said Armi- 
tage ; and, opening the long envelope, he held forth the missive over 
which the poor old colonel had gone nearly wild. ^^He found it the 
morning they left, — in her garden.” 

If Jerrold’s face had been gray before, it was simply ghastly now. 
He recoiled from the sight after one fruitless effort to grasp the letter, 
then rallied with unlooked-for spirit : 

“By heaven, Armitage, suppose I did write that letter? What 
does it prove but what I say, — that somebody has been prying and 
spying into my affairs ? How came the colonel by it, if not by fraud 
or treachery ?” 

“ He picked it up in the garden, I tell you, — among the rose-bushes, 
where she — where Miss Ren wick had been but a few moments before, 
and where it might appear that she had dropped it.” 

She! That letter! What had she to do with it? What right 
had she to read it ?” 

Armitage stepped impulsively forward. A glad, glorious light was 
bursting upon his soul. He could almost have seized Jerrold’s hand and 
thanked him ; but proofs — proofs were what he needed. It was not his 
mind that was to be convinced, it was “ society” that must be satisfied 
of her utter innocence, that it might be enabled to say, “ Well, I never 


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for a moment believed a word of it.” Link by link the chaia of cir- 
cumstantial evidence must be destroyed, and this was only one. 

You mean that that letter was not intended for Miss Kenwick ?” 
he asked, with eagerness he strove hard to repress. 

It was never meant for anybody,” said Jerrold, the color coming 
back to his face and courage to his eyes. That letter was never 
sent by me to any woman. It^s my writing, of course, I canT deny 
that; but I never even meant it to go. If it left that desk it must 
have been stolen. IVe been hunting high and low for it. I knew 
that such a thing lying around loose would be the cause of mischief. 
God ! is that what all this fuss is about ?” And he looked warily, 
yet with infinite anxiety, into his captain’s eyes. 

There is far more to it, as you well know, sir,” was the stern 
answer. For whom was this written, if not for her? It won’t do to 
half clear her name.” 

Answer me this. Captain Armitage. Do you mean that that letter 
has compromised Miss Renwick ? — that it is she whose name has been 
involved, and that it was of her that Chester meant to speak ?” 

Certainly it was, — and I too.” 

There was an instant’s silence; then Jerrold began to laugh ner- 
vously ; 

“ Oh, well, I fancy it isn’t the first time the revered and respected 
captain has got away off the track. All the same I do not mean to 
overlook his language to me ; and I may say right now. Captain Armi- 
tage, that yours, too, calls for explanation.” 

You shall have it in short, order, Mr. Jerrold, and the sooner yon 
understand the situation the better. So far as I am concerned, Miss 
Renwick needed no defender ; but, thanks to your mysterious and un- 
warranted absence from quarters two very unlucky nights, and to other 
circumstances I have no need to name, and to your penchayit for letter- 
writing of a most suggestive character, it is Miss Renwick whose name 
has been brought into question here at this post, and most prominently 
so. In plain words, Mr. Jerrold, you who brought this trouble upon 
her by your own misconduct must clear her, no matter at whose ex- 
pense, or ” 

Or what ?” 

I make no threats. I prefer that you should make the proper 
explanations from a proper sense of what is due.” 

And suppose I say that no man is called upon to explain a situ a- 


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269 


tion which has been distorted and misrepresented by the evil imagination 
of his fellows?’^ 

‘^‘Then I may have to wring the truth out of you, — and wiU ; but, 
for her sake, I want as little publicity as possible. After this display 
on your part, I am not bound to show you any consideration whatever. 
Understand this, however : the array of evidence that you were felo- 
niously inside Colonel Maynard^s quarters that night and at his cottage 
window last night is of such a character that a court would convict you 
unless your alibi was conclusive. Leave the service you certainly shall, 
unless this whole thing is cleared up.” 

I never was anywhere near Colonel Maynard’s either last night 
or the other night I was absent.” 

You will have to prove it. Mere denials won’t help you in the 
face of such evidence as we have that you were there the first time.” 

What evidence ?” 

The photograph that was stolen from Mrs. Maynard between two 
and four o’clock that morning was seen in your drawer by Major Sloat 
at reveille. You were fool enough to show it to him.” 

Captain Armitage, I shall be quite able to show, when the proper 
time comes, that the photograph I showed Major Sloat was not stolen : 
it was given me.” 

That is beyond belief, Mr. Jerrold. Once and for all, understand 
this case. You have compromised her good name by the very mystery 
of your actions. You have it in your power to clear her by proving 
where you were, since you were not near her, — by showing how you got 
that photograph, — by explaining how you came to write so strange a 
letter. Now I say to you, will you do it, instantly, or must we wring 
it from you ?” 

A sneering smile was the only answer for a moment ; then, — 

I shall take great pleasure in confounding my enemies should tlie 
matter be brought before a court, — I’m sure if the colonel can stand 
that sort of thing I can, — but as for defending myself or anybody else 
from utterly unjust and proofless suspicions, it’s quite another thing.” 

Good God, Jerrold ! do you realize what a position you are taking ? 
Do you ” 

Oh, not at all, captain,” was the airy reply, not at all. It is 
not a position I have taken : it is one into which you misguided con- 
spirators have forced me. I certainly am not required to compromise 
anybody else in order to relieve a suspicion which you, not I, have 

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created. How do you know that there may not be some other woman 
whose name I propose to guard? You have been really very flattering 
in your theories so far.^^ 

Armitage could bear no more. The airy conceit and insolence of 
the man overcame all self-restraint and resolution. With one bound 
he was at his throat, his strong white hands grasping him in a sudden, 
vice-like grip, then hurling him with stunning, thundering force to 
the floor. Down, headlong, went the tall lieutenant, his sword clat- 
tering by his side, his slim brown hands clutching wildly at anything 
that might bear him up, and dragging with him in his catastrophe a 
rack of hunting-pouches, antlers, and one heavy double-barrelled shot- 
gun. All came tumbling down about the struggling form, and Armi- 
tage, glaring down at him with clinching fists and rasping teeth, had 
only time to utter one deep-drawn malediction when he noted that 
the struggles ceased and Jerrold lay quite still. Then the blood began 
to ooze from a jagged cut near the temple, and it was evident that the 
hammer of the gun had struck him. 

Another moment, and the door opened, and with anxious face Ches- 
ter strode into the room. ‘‘You havenT killed him, Armitage? Is it 
as bad as that 

“ Pick him up, and we’ll get him on the bed. He’s only stunned. 
I didn’t even hit him. Those things tumbled afterwards,” said Armi- 
tage, as between them they raised the dead weight of the slender Adonis 
in their arms and bore him to the bedroom. Here they bathed the 
wound with cold water and removed the uniform coat, and presently 
the lieutenant began to revive and look about him. 

“ Who struck me ?” he faintly asked. 

“Your shot-gun fell on your head, but I threw you down, Jerrold. 
I’m sorry I touched you, but you’re lucky it was no worse. This 
thing is going to raise a big bump here. Shall I send the doctor ?” 

“ No. I’ll come round presently. We’ll see about this thing after- 
wards.” 

“ Is there any friend you want to see ? Shall I send word to any- 
body?” asked Chester. 

“No. Don’t let anybody come. Tell my striker to bring my 
breakfast ; but I want nothing to-night but to be let alone.” 

“At least you will let me help you undress and gtt to bed?” said 
Chester. 


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271 


‘^No. I wish you’d go, — both of you. I want quiet, — ^j)eace, — 
and there’s none of it with either of you.” 

And so they left him. Later Caj)tain Chester had gone to the 
quarters, and, after much parleying from without, had gained admission. 
Jerrold’s head was bound in a bandage wet with arnica and water. He 
had been solacing himself with a pipe and a whiskey toddy, and was in 
a not unnaturally ugly mood. 

“You may consider yourself excused from duty until your face is 
well again, by which time this matter will be decided. I admonish 
you to remain here and not leave the post until it is.” 

“ You can prefer charges and see wliat you’ll make of it,” was the 
vehement reply. “ Devil a bit will I help you out of the thing, after 
this night’s work.” 

XIV. 

Tuesday, and the day of the long-projected german had come; and 
if ever a lot of garrison-people were wishing themselves well out of a 
flurry it was the social circle at Sibley. Invitations had been sent to 
all the prominent people in town who had shown any interest in the 
garrison since the regiment’s arrival ; beautiful favors had been pro- 
cured ; an elaborate supper had been prepared, — the ladies contributing 
their efforts to the salads and other solids, the officers wisely confining 
their donations to the wines. It was rumored tiiat new and original 
figures were to be danced, and much had been said about this feature 
in town, and much speculation had been indulged in ; but • the Beau- 
bien residence had been closed until the previous day, Nina was away 
with her mother and beyond reach of question, and Mr. Jerrold had 
not shown his face in town since her departure. Nor was he accessible 
when visitors inquired at the fort. They had never known such mys- 
terious army people in their lives. What on earth could induce them 
to be so close-mouthed about a mere german ? one might su])pose they 
had something worth concealing ; and presently it became noised abroad 
that there was genuine cause for perplexity, and possibly worse. 

To begin with, every one at Sibley now knew something of the 
night adventure at the colonel’s, and, as no one could give the true 
statement of the case, the stories in circulation were gorgeous embellish- 
ments of the actual facts. It would be useless, even if advisable, tu 
attempt to reproduce these wild theories, but never was army garrison I 
so tumultuously stirred by the whirlwind of rumor. It was no longer 


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denied for an instant that the absence of the colonel and his household 
was the direct result of that night’s discoveries ; and when, to Mrs. 
Hoyt’s inexpressible relief, there came a prettily-worded note from 
Alice on Monday evening informing her that neither the colonel nor 
her mother felt well enough to return to Sibley for the german, and that 
she herself preferred not to leave her mother at a time when she needed 
her care, Mrs. Hoyt and her intimates, with whom she instantly con- 
ferred, decided that there could be no doubt whatever that the colonel 
knew of the affair, had forbidden their return, and was only waiting 
for further evidence to decide what was to be done with his erring step- 
daughter. Women talked with bated breath of the latest stories in 
circulation, of Chester’s moody silence and preoccupation, of Jerrold’s 
ostracism, and of Frank Armitage’s sudden return. 

On Monday morning the captain had quietly appeared in uniform 
at the office, and it was known that he had relinquished the remainder 
of his leave of absence and resumed command of his company. There 
were men in the garrison who well knew that it was because of the 
mystery overhanging the colonel’s household that Armitage had so 
suddenly returned. They asked no questions and sought no explana- 
tion. All men marked, however, that Jerrold w^s not at the office 
‘ on Monday, and many curiously looked at the morning report in the 
adjutant’s office. No, he was not in arrest ; neither was he on sick- 
report. He was marked present for duty, and yet he was not at the 
customary assembly of all the commissioned officers at head-quarters. 
More mystery, and most exasperating, too, it was known that Armitage 
and Jerrold had held a brief talk in the latter’s quarters soon after 
Sunday’s evening parade, and that the former had been reinforced for a 
time by Captain Chester, with whom he was afterwards closeted. Offi- 
cers who heard that he had suddenly returned and was at Chester’s 
went speedily to the latter’s quarters, — at least two or three did, — and 
were met by a servant at the door, who said that the gentlemen had 
just gone out the back way. And, sure enough, neither Chester nor 
Armitage came home until long after taps; and then the colonel’s 
cook told several people that the two gentlemen had spent over an hour 
up-stairs in the colonel’s and Miss Alice’s room and ^‘was foolin’ 
around the house till near ten o’clock.” 

Another thing that added to the flame of speculation and curiosity 
was this. Two of the ladies, returning from a moonlit stroll on the ter- 
race just after tattoo, came through the narrow passage-way on the west 


FROM THE RANKS, 




side of the colonel’s quarters, and there, at the foot of the little flight 
of steps leading up to the parade, they came suddenly upon Captain 
Chester, who was evidently only moderately pleased to see them and 
nervously anxious to expedite their onward movement. With the per- 
versity of both sexes, however, they stopped to chat and inquire wliat 
he was doing there, and in the midst of it all a faint light gleamed on 
the opposite wall and the reflection of the curtains in Alice Renwick’s 
window was distinctly visible. Then a sturdy masculine shadow ap- 
peared, and there was a rustling above, and then, with exasperating, 
mysterious, and epigrammatic terseness, a deep voice propounded the 
utterly senseless question, — 

“ How’s that?” 

To which, in great embarrassment, Chester replied, — 

Hold on a minute. I’m talking with some interested spectators.” 

Whereat the shadow of the big man shot out of sight, and the 
ladies found that it was useless to remain, — there would be no further 
developments so long as they did ; and so they came away, with many 
a lingering backward look. But the idea of asking such a fool ques- 
tion as ‘ How’s that ?’ Why couldn’t the man say what he meant ?” It 
was gathered, however, that Armitage and Chester had been making 
some experiments that bore in some measure on the mystery. And all 
this time Mr. Jerrold was in his quarters, only a stone’s-throw away. 
How interested he must have been ! 

But, while the garrison was relieved at knowing that Alice Benwick 
would not be on hand for the german and it was being fondly hoped 
she might never return to the post, there was still another grievous 
embarrassment. How about Mr. Jerrold ? 

He had been asked to lead when the german was first projected, 
and had accepted. That was fully two weeks before; and now — no 
one knew just what ought to be done. It was known that Nina 
Beaubien had returned on the previous day from a brief visit to the 
upper lakes, and that she had a costume of ravishing beauty in which 
to carry desolation to the hearts of the garrison belles in leading that 
german with Mr. Jerrold. Old Madame Beaubien had been reluctant, 
said her city friends, to return at all. She heartily disapproved of Mr. 
Jerrold, and was bitterly set against Nina’s growing infatuation for him. 
But Nina was headstrong and determined : moreover, she was far more 
than a match for her mother’s vigilance, and it was known at Sibley 
that two or three times the girl had been out at the fort with the Suttcns 
M* 


274 


FROM THE BANKS, 


and other friends when the old lady believed her in quarters totally 
different. Cub Sutton had confided to Captain Wilton that Madame 
Beaubien was in total ignorance of the fact that there was to be a party 
at the doctor’s the night he had driven out with Nina and his sister, 
and that Nina had ‘^pulled the wool over her mother’s eyes” and made 
her believe she was going to spend the evening with friends in town, 
naming a family with whom the Beaubiens were intimate. A long 
drive always made the old lady sleepy, and, as she had accompanied 
Nina to the fort that afternoon, she went early to bed, having secured her 
wild birdling, as she supposed, from possibility of further meetings with 
Jerrold. For nearly a week, said Cub, Madame Beaubien had dogged 
Nina so that she could not get a moment with the man with whom 
she was evidently so smitten, and the girl was almost at her wits’ end 
with seeing the depth of his flirtation with Alice Fenwick and the 
knowledge that on the morrow her mother would spirit her off to the 
cool breezes and blue waves of the great lake. Cub said she so worked 
on Fanny’s feelings that they put up the scheme together and made 
him bring them out. Gad ! if old Maman only found it out there’d 
be no more germans for Nina. She’d ship her off to the good Sisters 
at Creve-Coeur and slap her into a convent and leave all her money to 
the Church. 

And yet, said city society, old Maman idolized her beautiful daugh- 
ter and could deny her no luxury or indulgence. She dressed her 
superbly, though with a somewhat barbaric taste where Nina’s own 
good sense and Eastern teaching did not interfere. What she feared 
was that the girl would fall in love with some adventurer, or — what 
was quite as bad — some army man who would carry her darling away 
to Arizona or other inaccessible spot. Her plan was that Nina should 
marry here — at home — some one of the staid young merchant princes 
rising into prominence in the Western metropolis, and from the very 
outset Nina had shown a singular infatuation for the buttons and straps 
and music and heaven-knows-what-all out at the fort. She gloried in 
seeing her daughter prominent in all scenes of social life. She rejoiced 
in her triumphs, and took infinite pains with all preparations. She 
would have set her foot against Nina’s simply dancing the german at 
the fort with Jerrold as a partner, but she could not resist it that the 
pa})ers should announce on Sunday morning that the event of the 
season at Fort Sibley was the german given last Tuesday night by 
the ladies of the garrison and led by the lovely Miss Beaubien” with 


FROM THE BANKS, 


275 


Lieutenant or Caj)tain Anybody. There were a dozen bright, graceful, 
winning women among the dames and damsels at the fort, and Alice 
Reiiwick was a famous beauty by this time. It was more than Maman 
Beaubien could withstand, that her Nina should lead^^ all these, and 
so her consent was won. Back they came from Chequamegon, and the 
stately home on Summit Avenue reo{)ened to receive them. It was 
Monday noon vlieu they returned, and by three o’clock Fanny Sutton 
liad told Nina Beaubien what she knew of the wonderful rumors 
that were floating in from Sibley. She was more than half disposed 
to be in love with Jerrold herself. She expected a proper amount 
of womanly horror, incredulity, and indignation ; but she was totally 
unprepared for the outburst that followed. Nina was transformed into 
a tragedy queen on the instant, and poor, simple-hearted, foolish Fanny 
Sutton was almost scared out of her small wits by the fire of denuncia- 
tion and fury with which her story was greeted. She came home with 
white, frightened face and hunted up Cub and told him that she had 
been telling Nina some of the queer things the ladies had been saying 
about Mr. Jerrold, and Nina almost tore her to pieces, and could he 
go right out to the fort to see Mr. Jerrold? Nina wanted to send a 
note at once ; and if he couldn’t go she had made her promise that she 
would get somebody to go instantly and to come back and let her know 
before four o’clock. Cub was always glad of an excuse to go out to 
the fort, but a coldness had sprung up between him and Jerrold. He 
nad heard the ugly rumors in that mysterious way in which all such 
things are heard, and, while his shallow pate could not quite conceive 
of such a monstrous scandal and he did not believe half he heard, he 
sagely felt that in the })resence of so much smoke there was surely 
some fire, and avoided the man from whom he had been inseparable. 
Of course he had not spoken to him on the subject, and, singularly 
enough, this was the case with all the officers at the post except Armi- 
tage and the commander. It was understood that the matter was in 
Chester’s hands, to do with as was deemed best. It was believed that 
his resignation had been tendered ; and all these forty-eight hours since 
the story might be said to' be fairly before the public, Jerrold had been 
left much to himself, and was })resumably in the depths of dismay. 

One or two men, urged by their wives, who thought it was really 
time something were done to let him understand he ought not to lead 
the german, had gone to see him and been refused admission. Asked 
from within what they wanted, the reply was somewhat difficult to 


276 


FROM THE BANKS. 


frame, and in both cases resolved itself into Oh, about the german 
to which Jerrold’s voice was heard to say, The german’s all right. 
I’ll lead if I’m well enough and am not botlicred to death meantime ; 
but I’ve got some private matters to attend to, and am not seeing any- 
body to-day.” And with this answer they were fain to be content. 
It had been settled, however, that the officers were to tell Captain 
Chester at ten o’clock that in their opinion ]\Ir. Jerrold ought not to be 
permitted to attend so long as this mysterious charge hung over him ; 
and Mr. Rollins had been notified that he must be ready to lead. 

Poor Rollins ! He was in sore perplexity. He wanted nothing 
better than to dance with Nina Beaubien. He wondered if she would 
lead with him, or would even come at all when she learned that Jerrold 
would be unable to attend. Sickness” was to be the ostensible cause, 
and in the youth and innocence of his heart Rollins never supposed 
that Nina would hear of all the other assignable reasons. He meant 
to ride in and call upon her Monday evening ; but, as ill luck would 
have it, old Sloat, who was officer of the day, stepped on a round 
pebble as he was going down the long flight to the railway-station, and 
sprained his ankle. Just at five o’clock Rollins got orders to relieve 
him, and was returning from the guard-house, when who should comr 
driving in but Cub Sutton, and Cub reined up and asked where he 
would be apt to find Mr. Jerrold. 

He isn’t well, and has been denying himself to all callers to-day, ' 
said Rollins, shortly. 

Well, I’ve got to see him, or at least get a note to him,” said 
Cub. It’s from Miss Beaubien, and requires an answer.” 

“You know the way to his quarters, I presume,” said Rollins, 
coldly : “ you have been there frequently. I will have a man hold 
your horse, or you can tie him there at the rail, just as you please.” 

“Thanks. I’ll go over, I believe.” And go he did, and poor 
Rollins was unable to resist the temptation of watching whetlier the 
magic name of Nina would open the door. It did not ; but he saw 
Cub hand in the little note through the shutters, and ere long there 
came another from within. This Cub stowed in his waistcoat- pocket 
and drove off with, and Rollins walked jealously homeward. But 
that evening he went through a worse experience, and it w’as the last 
blow to his budding passion for sparkling-eyed Nina. 

It was nearly tattoo, and a dark night, when Chester suddenly 
came in ; 


FROM THE RANKS. 


277 


Rollins, you remember my telling you I was sure some of the men 
iiad been getting liquor in from the shore down below the station and 
running it’ that way ? I believe we can nab the smuggler this even- 
ing. There’s a boat down there now. The corporal has just told 
me.” 

Smuggling liquor was one of Chester’s horrors. He surrounded the 
post with a cordon of sentries who had no higlier duty, apparently, than 
that of preventing the entrance of alcohol in any form. He had run a 
“ red-cross” crusade against the post-trader’s store in the matter of light 
wines and small beer, claiming that only adulterated stuff was sold to 
the men, and forbidding the sale of anything stronger than pop” over 
the trader’s counter. Then, when it became apparent that liquor was 
being brought on the reservation, he made vigorous efforts to break up 
the practice. Colonel Maynard rather poohpoohed the whole business. 
It was his theory that a man who was determined to have a drink might 
better be allowed to take an honest one, coram publicOy than a smug- 
gled and deleterious article ; but he succumbed to the rule that only 
“ light wines and beer” should be sold at the store, and was lenient to 
the poor devils who overloaded and deranged their stomachs in conse- 
quence. But Chester no sooner found himself in command than he 
launched into the crusade with redoubled energy, and spent hours of 
the day and night trying to capture invaders of the reservation with a 
bottle in their pockets. The bridge was guarded, so was the crossing 
of the Cloud water to the south, and so were the two roads entering from 
the north and west ; and yet there was liquor coming in, and, as though 
^ to give Chester a benefit,” some of the men in barracks had a royal 
old spree on Saturday night, and the cai^tain was sorer-headed than any 
of the participants in consequence. In some way he heard that a row- 
boat came up at night and landed supplies of contraband down by the 
river-side out of sight and hearing of the sentry at the railway-station, 
and it was thither he hurriedly led Rollins this Monday evening. 

They turned across the railway on reaching the bottom of the long 
stairs, and scrambled down the rocky embankment on the other side, 
Rollins following in reluctant silence and holding his sword so that it 
would not rattle, but he had no faith in the theory of smugglers. He 
felt in some vague and unsatisfactory way a sense of discomfort and 
anxiety over his captain’s late proceedings, and this stealthy descent 
seemed fraught with ill omen. 

Ilnce down in the flats, their footsteps made no noise in the yielding 

24 


278 


FROM THE RANKS. 


sand, and all was silence save for the plash of the waters along the shores. 
Far down the river were the reflections of one or two twinkling lights, 
and close under the bank in the slack-water a few stars were peeping 
at their own images, but no boat was there, and the captain led still far- 
ther to a little copse of willow, and there, in the shadows, sure enough, 
was a row-boat, with a little lantern dimly burning, half hidden in the 
stern. 

Not only that, but as they halted at the edge of the willows the 
captain put forth a warning hand and cautioned silence. No need. 
Rollins’s straining eyes were already fixed on two figures that were 
standing in the shadows not ten feet away, — one that of a tall, slender 
man, the other a young girl. It was a moment before Rollins could 
recognize either; but in that moment the girl had turned suddenly, 
had thrown her arms about the neck of the tall young man, and, with 
her head pillowed on his breast, was gazing up in his face. 

Iviss me once more, Howard. Then I must go,” they heard her 
whisper. 

Rollins seized his captain’s sleeve, and strove, sick at heart, to pull 
him back; but Chester stoutly stood his ground. In the few seconds 
more that they remained they saw his arras more closely enfold her. 
They saw her turn at the brink, and, in an utter abandonment of rap- 
turous, passionate love, throw her arms again about his neck and stand 
on tiptoe to reach his face with her warm lips. They could not fail 
to hear the caressing tone of her every word, or to mark his receptive 
but gloomy silence. They could not mistake the voice, — the form, 
shadowy though it Avas. The girl was Nina Beaubien, and the man, 
beyond question, Howard Jerrold. They saw him hand her into the 
light skiff and hurriedly kiss her good-night. Once again, as though 
she could not leave him, her arms were thrown about his neck and she 
clung to him with ail her strength ; then the little boat swung slowly 
out into the stream, the sculls w^ere shipped, and with practised hand 
Nina Beaubien pulled forth into the swirling waters of the river, and 
the faint light, like slowly-setting star, floated downward with the 
sweeping tide and finally disappeared beyond the point. 

Then Jerrold turned to leave, and Chester stepped forth and con- 
fronted I him : 

^‘Mr. Jerrold, did I not instruct you to confine yourself to your 
quarters until satisfactory explanation was made of the absences with 
which you are charged ?” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


279 


Jerrold started at the abrupt and unlooked-for greeting, but his 
answer was prompt : 

Not at all, sir. You gave me to understand that I was to remain 
here — not to leave the post — until you had decided on certain points ; 
and, though I do not admit the justice of your course, and though you 
have put me to grave inconvenience, I obeyed the order. I needed to 
go to town to-day on urgent business, but, between you and Captain 
Armitage, am in no condition to go. For all this, sir, there will come 
proper retribution when my colonel returns. And now, sir, you are 
spying upon me , — spyingy I say, — and it only confirms what I said of 
you before.” 

Silence, Mr. Jerrold ! This is insubordination.” 

I don’t care a damn what it is, sir ! There is nothing contemptuous 
enough for me to say of you or your conduct to me ” 

Not another word, Mr. Jerrold ! Go to your quarters in arrest. 
— Mr. Rollins, you are witness to this language.” 

But Rollins was not. Turning from the spot in blankness of heart 
before a word was uttered between them, he followed the waning light 
with eyes full of yearning and trouble ; he trudged his way down along 
the sandy shore until he came to the silent waters of the slough and 
could go no farther ; and then he sat him down and covered his face 
with his hands. It was pretty hard to bear. 

XV. 

Tuesday still, and all manner of things had happened and were still 
to happen in the hurrying hours that followed Sunday night. The 
garrison woke at Tuesday’s reveille in much perturbation of spirit, 
as has been said, but by eight o’clock and breakfast-time one cause of 
])erplexity was at an end. Relief had come with Monday afternoon 
and Alice Renwick’s letter saying she would not attend the german, 
and now still greater relief in the news that sped from mouth to mouth : 
Lieutenant Jerrold was in close arrest. Armitage and Chester had been 
again in consultation Monday night, said the gossips, and something 
new had been discovered, — no one knew just what, — and the toils had 
settled upon Jerrold’s handsome head, and now he was to be tried. As 
usual in such cases, the news came in through the kitchen, and most 
officers heard it at the breakfast-table from the lips of their better 
halves, who could hardly find words to express their sentiments as to 
the inability of their lords to explain the new phase of the situation. 


280 


FROM THE RANKS. 


When the first sergeant of Company B came around to Captain Armi- 
tage with the sick-book, soon after six in the morning, the captain 
briefly directed him to transfer Lieutenant Jerrold on the morning 
report from present for duty to in arrest,” and no sooner was it 
known at the quarters of Company B tlian it began to work back to 
Officers’ Row through the medium of the servants and strikers. 

It was the sole topic of talk for a full hour. Many ladies who had 
intended going to town by the early train almost perilled their chances 
of catching the same in their eagerness to hear further details. 

But the shriek of the whistle far up the valley broke up the group 
that was so busily chatting and speculating over in the quadrangle, and, 
with shy yet curious eyes, the party of at least a dozen — matrons and 
maids, wives or sisters of the officers — scurried past the darkened win- 
dows of Mr. Jerrold’s quarters, and through the mysterious passage 
west of the colonel’s silent house, and down the long stairs, just in 
time to catch the train that whirled them away city- ward almost as soon 
as it had disgorged the morning’s mail. Chatting and laughing, and full 
of blithe anticipation of the glories of the coming german, in prepara- 
tion for which most of their number had found it necessary to run in 
for just an hour’s shopping, they went jubilantly on their way. Shop- 
])ing done, they would all meet, take luncheon together at the Woman’s 
Exchange,” return to the post by the afternoon train, and have plenty 
of time for a little nap before dressing for the german. Perhaps the 
most interesting question now up for discussion was, who would lead 
with Mr. Rollins? The train went puffing into the crowded depot: 
the ladies hastened forth, and in a moment were on the street ; cabs and 
carriages were passed in disdain ; a brisk walk of a block carried them 
to the main thoroughfare and into the heart of the shopping district ; a 
rush of hoofs and wheels and pedestrians there encountered them, and 
the roar assailed their sensitive and unaccustomed ears, yet high above 
it all pierced and pealed the shrill voices of the newsboys darting here 
and there with their eagerly-bought journals. But women bent on 
germans and shopping have time and ears for no such news as that 
which demands the publication of extras. Some of them never hear 
or heed the cry, Indian Massacree !” Here y’are ! All about the 
killin’ of Major Thornton an’ his sojers !” Extry ! — extry !” It 
is not until they reach the broad portals of the great Stewart of the 
West that one of their number, half incredulousl^y, buys a copy and 
reads aloud : “ Major Thornton, th Infantry, Captain Langham and 


FROM THE RANKS. 


281 


Lieutenant Bliss, th Cavalry, and thirt}' men, are killed. Captains 

Wright and Lane and Lieutenants Willard and Brooks, th Cavalry, 

and some forty more men, are seriously wounded. The rest of the 
command is corralled by an overwhelming force of Indians, and their 
only hope is to hold out until help can reach them. All troops along 
the line of the Union Pacific are already under orders.’^ 

Oh, isn’t it dreadful ?” 

Yes ; but aren’t you glad it wasn’t Ours ? Oh, look ! there’s Nina 
Beaubien over there in her carriage. Do let’s find out if she’s going to 
lead with Rollins !” 

Vcevictk! Far out in the glorious Park country in the heart of 
the Centennial State a little band of blue-coats, sent to succor a perilled 
agent, is making desperate stand against fearful odds. Less than two 
hundred men has the wisdom of the Department sent forth through the 
wilderness to find and, if need be, fight its way through five times its 
weight in well-armed foes. The officers and men have no special 
quarrel with those Indians, nor the Indians with them. Only two 
winters before, when those same Indians were sick and starving, and 
their lying go-betweens, the Bureau-employees, would give them neither 
food nor justice, a small band made their way to the railway and were 
fed on soldier food and their wrongs righted by soldier justice. But 
another* snarl has come now, and this time the Bureau-people are in a 
pickle, and the army — ever between two fires at least, and thankful 
when it isn’t six — is ordered to send a little force and go out there 
and help the agent maintain his authority. The very night before the 
column reaches the borders of the reservation the leading chiefs come 
in camp to interview the officers, shake hands, beg tobacco, and try on 
their clothes, then go back to their braves and laugh as they tell there 
are only a handful, and plan the morrow’s ambuscade and massacre. 
Vce victis I There are women and children among the garrisons along 
the Union Pacific whose hearts have little room for thoughts of germans 
in the horror of this morning’s tidings. But Sibley is miles and miles 
away, and, as Mrs. Wheeler says, aren’t you glad it wasn’t Ours? 

Out at the fort there is a different scene. The morning journals and 
the clicking telegraph send a thrill throughout the whole command. 
The train has barely whistled out of sight when the ringing notes of 
officers’ call resound through the quadrangle and out over the broader 
drill-ground beyond. Wondering, but prompt, the staid captains and 
eager subalterns come hurrying to head-quarters, and the band, that 


282 


FROM THE RANKS. 


had come forth and taken its station on the parade, all read}’ foi 
guard-mount, goes quickly back, while the men gather in big squads 
along the shaded row of their quarters and watch the rapid assembly 
at the office. And there old Chester, with kindling eyes, reads to the 
silent company the brief official order. Ay, though it be miles and 
miles away, fast as steam and wheel can take it, the good old regiment 
in all its sturdy strength goes forth to join the rescue of the imprisoned 
comrades far in the Colorado Rockies. Have your entire command in 
readiness for immediate field-service in the Department of the Platte. 
Special train will be there to take you by noon at latest.” And though 
many a man has lost friend and comrade in the tragedy that calls them 
forth, and though many a brow clouds for the moment with the bitter 
news of such useless sacrifice, every eye brightens, every muscle seems 
to brace, every nerve and pulse to throb and thrill with the glorious 
excitement of quick assembly and coming action. Ay, we are miles 
and miles away ; we leave the dear old post, with homes and firesides, 
wives, children, and sweethearts, all to the care of the few whom sick- 
ness or old wounds or advancing years render unfit for hard, sharp 
marching ; and, thank God ! we’ll be there to take a hand and help 
those gallant fellows out of their corral” or to have one good blow at 
the cowardly liounds who lured and lied to them. 

How the assembly” rings on the morning air ! How quick they 
spring to ranks, those eager bearded faces and trim blue-clad forms ! 
How buoyant and brisk even the elders seem as the captains speed over 
to their company quarters and the quick, stirring orders are given ! 

Field kits ; all the cooked rations you have on hand ; overcoat, 
blanket, extra socks and underclothes ; every cartridge you’ve got ; 
haversack and canteen, and nothing else. Now get ready, — lively !” 
How irrepressible is the cheer that goes up ! How we pity the swells 
of the light battery who have to stay ! How wistful those fellows 
look, and how eagerly they throng about the barracks, yearning to go, 
and, since that is denied, praying to be of use in some way ! Small 
wonder is it that all the bustle and excitement penetrates the portals of 
Mr. Jerrold’s darkened quarters, and the shutters are thrown open and 
his bandaged head comes forth. 

‘‘ What is it, Harris?” he demands of a light-battery man who is 
hurrying past. 

‘^Orders for Colorado, sir. The regiment go?s by special train. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


283 


Major Thornton’s command’s been massacred, and there’s a big fight 
ahead.” 

My God ! Here ! — ^stop one moment. Kun over to Company 
B and see if you can find my servant, or Merrick, or somebody. 
If not, you come back quick. I want to send a note to Captain 
Armitage.” 

I can take it, sir. We’re not going. The band and the battery 
have to stay.” 

And Jerrold, with trembling hand and feverish haste, seats himself 
at the same desk whence on that fatal morning he sent the note that 
wrought such disaster ; and as he rises and hands his missive forth, 
throwing wide open the shutters as he does so, his bedroom doors fly 
open, and a whirling gust of the morning wind sweeps through from 
rear to front, and half a score of bills and billets, letters and scraps of 
paper, go ballooning out upon the parade. 

By heaven !” he mutters, ‘‘ that’s how it happened, is it ? Look 
at them go !” for going they were, in spiral eddies or fluttering skips, 
up tlie grassy ^^quad,” and over among the rose-bushes of Alice Ben- 
wick’s garden. Over on the other side of the narrow, old-fashioned 
frontier fort the men were bustling about, and their exultant, eager 
voices rang out on the morning air. All was life and animation, and 
even in Jerrold’s selfish soul there rose responsive echo to the soldierly 
spirit that seemed to pervade the whole command. It was their first 
summons to active field-duty with prospective battle since he had joined, 
and, with all his shortcomings as a duty” officer in garrison and his 
many frailties of character, Jerrold was not the man to lurk in the rear 
when there was danger ahead. It dawned on him with sudden and 
crushing force that now it lay in the power of his enemies to do him 
vital injury, — that he could be held here at the post like a suspected 
felon, a mark for every finger, a target for every tongue, while every 
other officer of his regiment was hurrying with diis men to take his 
knightly share in the coming onset. It was intolerable, shameful. 
He paced the floor of his little parlor in nervous misery, ever and anon 
gazing from the window for sight of his captain. It was to him he 
had written, urging that he be permitted a few moments’ talk. “ This 
is no time for a personal misunderstanding,” he wrote. “I must see 
you at once. I can clear away the doubts, can explain my action ; but^ 
for heaven’s sake, intercede for me with Captain Chester that I may 
go with the command.” 


284 


FROM THE BANKS, 


As Inck would have it, Armitage was with Chester at the office 
when the letter was handed in. He opened it, gave a whistle of sur- 
prise, and simply held it forth to the temporary commander. 

Read that/’ he said. . 

Chester frowned, but took the note and looked it curiously o^•er, 

I have no patience with the man now,” he said. Of course 
after what I saw last night I begin to understand the nature of his I 
deffince ; but we don’t want any such man in the regiment, after this I 
What’s the use of taking him with us?” 

That isn’t the point,” said Armitage. Now or never, possibly, 
is the time to clear up this mystery. Of course Maynard will be up 
to join us by the first train ; and what won’t it be worth to him to have 
positive proof that all his fears were unfounded ?” 

Even if it wasn’t Jerrold, there is still the fact that I saw a man 
clambering out of her window. How is that to be cleared up ?” said 
Chester, gloomily. 

“ That may come later, and won’t be such a bugbear as you think. 

If you were not worried into a morbid condition over all this trouble, 
you would not look so seriously upon a thing which I regard as a piece 
of mere night prowling, with a possible spice of romance.” 

What romance, I’d like to know ?” 

“ Never mind that now : I’m playing detective for the time 
bemg. Let me see Jerrold for you and find out what he has to offer. 
Then you can decide. Are you willing ? All right ! But remember 
this while I think of it. You admit that the light you saw on the 
wall Sunday night was exactly like that which you saw the night of 
your adventure, and that the shadows were thrown in the same way. 
You thought that night that the light was turned up and afterwards 
turned out in her room, and that it was her figure you saw at the 
window. Didn’t you ?” 

Yes. What then ?” 

Well, I believe lier statement that she saw and heard nothing 
until reveille. I believe it was Mrs. Maynard who did the whole thing, 
without Miss Renwick’s knowing anything about it.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I accomplished the feat with the aid of the little night- 
lamp that I found by the colonel’s bedside. It is my theory that Mrs. 
INIaynard was restless after the colonel finally fell asleep, that she heard 
your tumble, and took her little lamp, crossed over into Miss Renwick’s | 


FROM THE RANKS. 


286 


room, opened the door without creaking, as I can do to your satisfaction, 
found her sleeping quietly, but the room a trifle close and warm, set 
her night-lamp down on the table, as I did, threw her shadow on the 
wall, as I did, and opened the shade, as you thought her daughter did. 
Then she withdrew, and left those doors open, — both hers and her 
daughter’s, — and the light, instead of being turned down, as you 
thought, was simply carried back into her own room.” 

“ That is all possible. But how about the man in her room ? 
Nothing was stolen, though money and jewelry were lying around 
loose. If theft was not the object, what was ?” 

Theft certainly was not, and I’m not prepared to say what was, 
but I have reason to believe it wasn’t Miss Ren wick.” 

Anything to prove it ?” 

“Yes; and, though time is precious and I cannot show you, you 
may take my word for it. We must be off at noon, and both of us 
have much to do, but there may be no other chance to talk, and before 
you leave this post I w^ant you to realize her utter innocence.” 

“ I want to, Armitage.” 

“ I know you do : so look here. We assume that the same man 
paid the night visit both here and at Sabi on, and that he wanted to see 
the same person, — if he did not come to steal : do we not ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ We know tliat at Sablon it was Mrs. Maynard he sought and 
called. The colonel says so.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Presumably, then, it was she — not her daughter — he had some 
reasoi>s for wanting to see here at Sibley. What is more, if he wanted 
to see iVIiss Renwick there was nothing to prevent his going right into 
her window ?” 

“ Nothing.” 

“ Well, I believe I can prove he didn’t ; on the contrary, that he 
went around by the roof of the porch to the colonel’s room and tried 
there, but found it risky on account of the blinds, and that finally he 
entered the hall wundow, — what might be called neutral ground. The 
painters had been at work there, as you said, two days before, and the 
paint on the slats was not quite dry. The blinds and sills were the 
only things they had touched up on that front, it seems, and nothing 
on the sides. Now, on the fresh paint of the colonel’s slats are the 


286 


FROM THE RANKS. 


new imprints of masculine thumb and fingers, and on the sill of the 
hall window is a footprint that I know to be other than Jerrold’s.’’ 

^Whyr 

Because he doesn’t own such a thing as this track was made 
with, and I don’t know a man in this command who does. It was the 
handiwork of the Tonto Apaches, and came from the other side of the 
continent.” 

You mean it was ?’^ 

Exactly. An Indian moccasin.” 

Meantime, Mr. Jerrold had been making hurried preparations, as 
he had fully determined that at any cost he would go with the regi- 
ment. He had been burning a number of letters, when Captain 
Armitage knocked and hurriedly entered. Jerrold pushed forward a 
chair and plunged at once into the matter at issue : 

There is no time to waste, captain. I have sent to you to ask 
what I can do to be released from arrest and permitted to go with the 
command.” 

“ Answer the questions I put to you the other night, and certify to 
your answers ; and of course you’ll have to apologize to Captain Chester 
for your last night’s language.” 

‘‘That of course; though you will admit it looked like spying. 
Now let me ask you, did he tell you who the lady was?” 

“ No. I told him.” 

“ How did you know ?” 

“ By intuition, and my knowledge of previous circumstances.” 

“AVe have no time to discuss it. I make no attempt to conceal it 
now ; but I ask that, on your honor, neither you nor he reveal it.” 

“ And continue to let the garrison believe that you were in Miss 
Renwick’s room that ghastly night?” asked Armitage, dryly. 

Jerrold flushed : “ I have denied that, and I would have proved my 
alibi could I have done so without betraying a woman’s secret. Must 
I tell ?” 

“ So far as I am concerned, Mr. Jerrold,” said Armitage, with cold 
and relentless meaning, “you not only must tell — you must prove — 
both that night’s doings and Saturday night’s, — both that and how you 
obtained that photograph.” 

“ My God ! In one case it is a woman’s name ; in the other I have 
promised on honor not to reveal it.” 

“That ends it, then. You remain here in close arrest, and tlie 


FROM THE RANKS, 287 

charges against you will be pushed to the bitter end. I will write them 
this very hour.” 

XVI. 

At ten o’clock that morning, shortly after a smiling interview with 
the ladies of Fort Sibley, in which, with infinite spirit and the most 
perfect self-control. Miss Beaubien had informed them that she had 
promised to lead with Mr. Jerrold, and, since he was in duress, she 
would lead with no one, and sent them off wondering and greatly ex- 
cited, there came running up to the carriage a telegraph messenger boy, 
who handed her a despatch. 

“ I was going up to the avenue, mum,” he explained, but I seen 
you here.” * 

Nina’s face paled as she tore it open and read the curt lines : 

Come to me, here. Your helj) needed instantly.” 

She sprang from the carriage. Tell mother I have gone over to 
see some Fort friends, — not to wait,” she called to the coachman, wtU 
knowing he would understand that she meant the ladies with w'hom she 
had been so recently talking. Like a frightened deer she sped around 
the corner, hailed the driver of a cab, lounging w'ith his fellows along 
the w^alk, ordered him to drive with all speed to Summit Avenue, and 
with beating heart decided on her plan. Her glorious eyes were flash- 
ing : the native courage and fierce determination of her race were 
working in her woman’s heart. She well knew that imminent danger 
threatened him. She had dared everything for love of his mere pres- 
ence, his sweet caress. What would she not dare to save him, if save 
she could ? He had not been true to her. She knew, and knew w^ell, 
that, whether sought or not, Alice Fenwick had been winning him from 
her, that he was wavering, that he had been cold and negligent ; but with 
all her soul and strength she loved him, and believed him grand and 
brave and fine as he was beautiful. Now — now was her opportunity. 
He needed her. His commission, his honor, depended on her. He 
had intimated as much the night before, — had told her of the accusa- 
tions and suspicions that attached to him, — but made no mention of 
the photograph. He had said that though nothing could drag from 
him a w^ord that would compromise Aer, she might be called upon to 
stand ’twixt him and ruin ; and now perhaps the hour had come. She 
could free, exonerate, glorify him, and in doing so claim him for her 
own. Who, after tliis. could stand ’twixt her and him ? He loved her, 


288 


FROM THE RANKS. 


though he had been cold ; and she ? Had he bidden her bow her 

dusky head to earth and kiss the print of his heel, she would have 
obeyed could she but feel sure that her reward would be a simple touch 
of his hand, an assurance that no other woman could find a moment^s 
place in his love. Verily, he had been doing desperate wooing in the 
long winter, for the very depths of her nature were all athrob with 
love for him. And now he could no longer plead that poverty with- 
held his offer of his hand. She would soon be mistress of her own 
little fortune, and, at her mother’s death, of an independence. Go to 
him she would, and on wings of the wind, and go she did. The cab 
released her at the gate to her home, and went back with a double fare 
that set the driver to thinking. She sped through the house, and out 
the rear doors, much to the amaze of cook and others who were in con- 
sultation in the kitchen. She flew down a winding flight of stairs to 
the level below, and her fairy feet went tripping over the pavem-ent of 
a plebeian street. A quick turn, and she was at a little second-rate 
stable, whose proprietor knew her and started from his chair. 

What’s wrong to-day. Miss Nina?” 

I want the roan mare and light buggy again, — quick as you can. 
Your own price at the old terms, Mr. Graves, — silence.” 

He nodded, called to a subordinate, and in five minutes handed her 
into the frail vehicle. An impatient chirrup and flap of the reins, and 
the roan shot forth into the dusty road, leaving old Graves shaking his 
head at the door. 

I’ve known her ever since she was weaned,” he muttered, and 
she’s a wild bird, if ever there was one, but she’s never been the like o’ 
this till last month.” 

And the roan mare was covered with foam and sweat when Nina 
Beaubien drove into the bustling fort, barely an hour after her receipt 
of Jerrold’s telegram. A few officers were gathered in front of head 
quarters, and there were curious looks from face to face as she was 
recognized. Mr. Rollins was on the walk, giving some instructions to 
a sergeant of his company, and never saw her until the buggy reined 
up close behind him and, turning suddenly, he met her face to face as 
she sprang lightly to the ground. The young fellow reddened to his 
eyes, and would have recoiled, but she was mistress of the situation. 
She well knew she had but to command and he would obey, or, at the 
most, if she could no longer command she had only to implore, and he 
would be powerless to withstand her entreaty. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


289 


I am glad you are here, Mr. Rollins. You can help me. — Ser- 
geant, will you kindly hitch my horse at that post? — Now,’^ she added, 
in low, hurried tone, ^^come with me to Mr. Jerrokhs.’^ 

Rollins was too stupefied to answer. Silently he })laced himself by 
her side, and together they passed the group at the office. Miss Beau- 
bien nodded with something of her old archness and coquetry to the 
cap-raising party, but never hesitated. Together they passed along the 
narrow board walk, followed by curious eyes, and as they reached the 
angle and stepped beneath the shelter of the piazza in front of the long, 
low, green-blinded Bachelors^ Row, there was sudden sensation in the 
grouj) Mr. Jerrold appeared at the door of his quarters; Rollins 
halted some fifty feet away, raised his cap, and left her ; and, all alone, 
with the eyes of Fort Sibley upon her, Nina Beaubien stepped bravely 
forward to meet her lover. 

They saw him greet her at the door. Some of them turned away, 
unwilling to look, and yet unwilling to go and not understand this new 
phase of the mystery. Rollins, looking neither to right nor left, re- 
passed them and walked off with a set, savage look on his young 
face, and then, as one or two still gazed, fascinated by this strange and 
daring proceeding, others, too, turned back and, half ashamed of them- 
selves for such a yielding to curiosity, glanced furtivelv over at Jerrold’s 
door. 

There they stood, — he, restrained by his arrest, unable to come 
forth ; she, restrained more by his barring form than by any considera- 
tion of maidenly reserve, for, had he bidden, she would have gone 
within. She had fully made up her mind that wherever he was, even 
were it behind the sentinels and bars of the guard-house, she would 
demand that she be taken to his side. He had handed out a chair, but 
she would not sit. They saw her looking up into his face as he talked, 
and noted the eager gesticulation, so characteristic of his Creole blood, 
that seemed to accompany his rapid words. They saw her bending 
towards him, looking eagerly up in his eyes, and occasionally casting 
indignant glances over towards the group at the office, as though she 
would annihilate with her wrath the persecutors .of her hero. Then 
they saw her stretch forth both her hands with a quick impulsive 
movement, and grasp his one instant, looking so faithfully, steadfastly, 
loyally, into his clouded and anxious face. Then she turned, and with 
quick, eager steps came tripping towards them. They stood irresolute. 
Everv man felt that it was somebody’s duty to step forward, meet her, 
N 25 


FROM THE RANKS, 


:i90 


and be her escort though the party, but no one advanced. There was, 
if anything, a tendency to sidle towards the office door, as though to 
leave the sidewalk unimpeded. But she nev^er sought to pass them by. 
With flashing eyes and crimson cheeks, she bore straight upon them, 
and, with indignant emphasis upon every word, accosted them : 

Captain Wilton, Major Sloat, I wish to see Captain Chester at 
once. Is he in the office 

Certainly, Miss Beaubien. Shall I call him ? or will you walk 
in And both men were at her side in a moment. 

Thanks. I will go right in, — if you will kindly show me to 
him.” 

Another moment, and Armitage and Chester, deep in the midst 
of their duties and surrounded by clerks and orderlies and assailed by 
half a dozen questions in one and the same instant, looked up aston- 
ished as Wilton stepped in and announced Miss Beaubien desiring to 
see Captain Chester on immediate business. There was no time for 
conference. There she stood in the door-way, and all tongues were 
hushed on the instant. Chester rose and stepped forward with anxious 
courtesy. She did not choose to see the extended hand. 

“It is you, alone, I wish to see, captain. Is it impossible here?” 

“ I fear it is, Miss Beaubien ; but we can walk out in the open air. 
I feel that I know what it is you wish to say to me,” he added, in a low 
tone, took his cap from the peg on which it hung, and led the way. 
Again she passed through the curious but respectful group, and Jer* 
rold, watching furtively from his window, saw them come forth. 

The captain turned to her as soon as they were out of earshot : 

“ I have no daughter of my own, my dear young lady, but if I 
had I could not more thoroughly feel for you than I do. How can J 
help you ?” 

The reply was unexpectedly spirited. He had thought to encour- 
age and sustain her, be sympathetic and paternal, but, as he afterwards 
ruefully admitted, he “ never did seem to get the hang of a woman’s 
temperament.” Apparently sympathy was not the thing she needed. 

“It is late in the day to ask such a question. Captain Chester. 
You have done great wrong and injustice. The question is now, 
will you undo it ?” 

He was too surprised to speak for a moment. When his tongue 
was unloosed he said, — 

J shall be glad to be convinced I was wrong.” 


FROM THE BANKS. 


291 


I know little of army justice or army laws, Captain Chester, but 
when a girl is compelled to take this step to rescue a friend there is 
something brutal about them, — or the men who enforce them. Mr. 
Jerrold tells me that he is arrested. I knew that last night, but not 
until this morning did he consent to let me know that he would be 
court-martialled unless he could prove where he was the night you were 
officer of the day two weeks ago, and last Saturday night. He is too 
noble and good to defend himself when by doing so he might harm me. 
But I am here to free him from the cruel suspicion you have formed.^’ 
She had quickened her step, and in her impulsiveness and agitation 
they were almost at the end of the walk. He hesitated, as though re- 
luctant to go along under the piazza, but she was imperious, and he 
yielded. No, come she said. ‘‘ I mean that you shall hear the 
whole truth, and that at once. I do not expect you to understand or 
condone my conduct, but you must acquit him. W e are engaged ; and 
— I love him. He has enemies here, as I see all too plainly, and they 
have prejudiced mother against him, and she has forbidden my seeing 
him. I came out to the fort without her knowledge one day, and it 
angered her. From that time she would not let me see him alone. 
She watched every movement, and came with me wherever I drove. 
She gave orders that I should never have any of our horses to drive or 
ride alone, — I, whom father had indulged to the utmost and who had 
ridden and driven at will from my babyhood. She came out to the 
fort with me that evening for parade, and never even agreed to let me 
go out to see some neighbors until she learned he was to escort Miss 
Renwick. She had ordered me to be ready to go with her to Che- 
quamagon the next day, and I would not go until I had seen him. 
There had been a misunderstanding. I got the Suttons to drive me 
out while mother supposed me at the Laurents’, and Mr. Jerrold prom- 
ised to meet me east of the bridge and drive in town with us, and I wa'=< 
to send him back in Graves’s buggy. He had been refused ])ermission 
to leave the post, lie said, and could not cross the bridge, where the sen- 
tries would be sure to recognize him, but, as it was our last chance of 
meeting, he risked the discovery of his absence, never dreaming of such 
a thing as his private rooms being inspected. He had a little skiff 
down in the willows that he had used before, and by leaving the ]iarty 
at midnight he could get home, change his dress, run down the bank 
and row down-stream to the Point, there leave his skiff and climb up 
to the road. He met us there at one o’clock, and the Suttons would 


292 


FROM THE RANKS. 


never betray either of us, though they did not know we were engaged. 
We sat in their parlor a quarter of an hour after we got to town, and 
then ^twas time to go, and there was only a little ten minutes’ walk 
down to the stable. I had seen him such a very short time, and I had 
so much to tell him.” (Chester could have burst into rapturous ap- 
plause had she been an actress. Her cheeks were aflame, her eyes full 
of fire and spirit, her bosom heaving, her little foot tapping the ground, 
as she stood there leaning on the colonel’s fence and looking straight 
up in the perturbed veteran’s face. She was magnificent, he said to 
himself ; and, in her bravery, self-sacrifice, and indignation, she was.) 
“ It was then after two, and I could just as well go with him, — some- 
body had to bring the buggy back, — and Graves himself hitched in his 
roan mare for me, and I drove out, picked up Mr. Jerrold at the cor- 
ner, and we came out here again through the darkness together. Even 
when we got to the Point I did not let him go at once. It was over an 
hour’s drive. It was fully half-past three before we parted. He sprang 
down the path to reach the river-side ; and before he was fairly in his 
boat and pulling up against the stream, I heard, far over here some- 
where, those two faint shots. That was the shooting he spoke of in 
his letter to me, — not to her ; and what business Colonel Maynard had 
to read and exhibit to his officers a letter never intended for him I can- 
not understand. Mr. Jerrold says it was not what he wanted it to be 
at all, as he wrote hastily, so he wrote another, and sent that to me by 
Merrick that morning after his absence was discovered. It ])robably 
blew out of the window, as these other things did this morning. See 
for yourself, captain.” And she pointed to the two or three bills and 
scraps that had evidently only recently fluttered in among the now 
neglected roses. ^‘Theji when he was aroused at reveille and you 
threatened him with punishment and held over his head the startling 
accusation that you knew of our meeting and our secret, he was natu- 
rally infinitely distressed, and could only write to warn me, and he 
managed to get in and say good-by to me at the station. As for me, I 
was back home by five o’clock, let myself noiselessly up to my room, 
and no one knew it but the Buttons and old Graves, neither of whom 
would betray me. I had no fear of the long dark road ; I had ridden 
and driven as a child all over these bluffs and prairies before there was 
any town worth mentioning, and in days when my father and I found 
only friends — not enemies — here at Sibley.” 

‘^Miss Beaubien, let me protest againt your accusation. It is no! 


FROM THE RANKS. 


293 


foi me to reprove your grave imprudence or recklessness ; nor have I 
the right to disapj^rove your choice of Mr. Jerrold. Let me say at 
once that you have none but friends here ; and if it ever should be 
known to wliat lengths you went to save him, it will only make him 
more envied and you more genuinely admired. 1 question your 
wisdom, but, upon my soul, I admire your bravery and spirit. You 
have cleared him of a terrible charge.” 

A most disdainful and impatient shrug of her shapely shoulders 
was Miss Beaublen’s only answer to that allusion. The possibility of 
Mr. Jerrold’s being suspected of another entanglement was something 
she would not tolerate : 

I know nothing of other people’s affairs. I simply speak of my 
own. Let us end this as quickly as possible, captain. Now about 
Saturday night. Mother had consented to our coming back for the 
german, — she enjoys seeing me lead, it seems, — and she decided to pay 
a short visit to relations at St. Croix, staying there Saturday night and 
over Sunday. This would give us a chance to meet again, as he could 
spend tlie evening in St. Croix and return by late train, and I wrote 
and asked him. He came ; we had a long talk in the summer-house 
in the garden, for mother never dreamed of his being there, and un- 
luckily he just missed the night train and did not get back until in- 
spection. It was impossible for him to have been at Sablon ; and he 
can furnish other proof, but would do nothing until he had seen me.” 

‘‘Miss Beaubien, you have cleared him. I only wish that you 
could clear — every one.” 

“ I am in no wise concerned in that other matter to which you have 
alluded ; neither is Mr. Jerrold. May I say to him at once that this 
ends his persecution ?” 

The captain smiled : “ You certainly deserve to be the bearer of 
good tidings. I wish he may a])preciate it.” 

Another moment, and she had left him and sped back to Jerrold’s 
door- way. He was there to meet her, and Chester looked with grim 
and uncertain emotion at the radiance in her face. He had to get 
back to the office and to pass them : so, as civilly as he could, consider- 
ing the weight of wrath and contempt he felt for the man, he stopped 
and spoke : 

“ Your fair advocate has been all-powerful, Mr. Jerrold. I con- 
gratulate you ; and your arrest is at an end. Captain Armitage will 


294 


FROM THE RANKS. 


require no duty of you until we are aboard ; but weVe only half an 
hour. The train is coming sharp at no(»n.” 

Train ! What train ! Where are you going ?’’ she asked, a wild 
anxiety in her eyes, a sudden pallor on her face. 

We are ordered post-haste to Colorado, Nina, to rescue what is 
left of Thornton^s men. But for you I should have been left behind.’^ 
But for me ! — left behind !’^ she cried. “ Oh, Howard, Howard ! 
have I only — only won you to send you into danger ? Oh, my darling ! 
Oh, God ! Donft — donft go ! They will kill you ! It will kill me ! 
Oh, what have I done ? what have I done 

^^Nina, hush ! My honor is with the regiment. I must go, child. 
We’ll be back in a few weeks. Indeed, I fear ’twill all be over before 
we get there. Ninay don’t look so ! Don’t act so ! Think where you 
are !” 


But she had borne too much, and the blow came all too soon, — too 
heavy. She was wellnigh senseless when the Beaubien carriage came 
whirling into the fort and old Maman rushed forth in voluble and 
rabid charge upon her daughter. All too late ! it was useless now. 
Her darling’s heart was weaned away, and her love lavished on that 
tall, objectionable young soldier so soon to go forth to battle. Re- 
proaches, tears, wrath, were all in order, but were abandoned at 
sight of poor Nina’s agony of grief. Noon came, and the train, and 
with buoyant tread the gallant command marched down the winding 
road and filed aboard the cars, and Howard Jerrold, shame-stricken, 
humbled at the contemplation of his own unworthiness, slowly un- 
clasped her arms from about his neck, laid one long kiss upon her 
white and quivering lips, took one brief look in the great, dark, haunt- 
ing, despairing eyes, and carried her wail of anguish ringing in his 
ears as he sprang aboard and was whirled away. 

But there were women who deemed themselves worse off than Nina 
Beaubien, — the wives and daughters and sweethearts whom she met 
that morn in town ; for when they got back to Sibley the regiment was 
miles away. For them there was not even a kiss from the lips of 
those they loved. Time and train waited for no woman. There were 
comrades battling for life in the Colorado Rockies, and aid could not 
come too soon. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


29b 


XVII. 

Under the cloudless heavens, under the starlit skies, blessing the 
grateful dew that cools the upland air and moistens the bunch-grass 
that has been bleaching all day in the fierce rays of the summer sun, a 
little column of infantry is swinging steadily southward. Long and 
toilsome has been the march ; hot, dusty, and parching the day. Halts 
have been few and far between, and every man, from the colonel down, 
is coated with a gray mask of powdered alkali, the contribution of a 
two hours’ tramp tli rough Headman’s Cafion just before the sun went 
down. Now, however, they are climbing the range. The morrow will 
bring them to the broad and beautiful valley of the Spirit Wolf, and 
there they must have news. Officers and men are footsore and weary, 
but no one begs for rest. Colonel Maynard, riding ahead on a sorry 
hack he picked up at the station two days’ long march behind them, is 
eager to reach the springs at Forest Glade before ordering bivouac for 
the night. A week agone no one who saw him at Sablon would have 
thought the colonel fit for a march like this ; but he seems rejuvenate. 
His head is high, his eye as bright, his bearing as full of spirit, as 
man’s could possibly be at sixty, and the wffiole regiment cheered him 
wffien he caught the column at Omaha. A talk with Chester and 
Armitage seemed to have made a new man of him, and to-night he is 
full of an energy that inspires the entire command. Though they were 
farther away than many other troops ordered to the scene, the fact that 
their station was on the railway and that they could be sent by special 
trains to Omaha and thence to the West enabled them to begin their 
rescue-march ahead of all the other foot-troops and behind only the 
powerful command of cavalry that was whirled to the scene the 
moment the authorities woke up to the fact that it should have been 
sent in the first place. Old Maynard would give his very ears to get 
to Thornton’s corral ahead of them, but the cavalry has thirty-six 
hours’ start and four legs to two. Every moment he looks ahead ex- 
pectant of tidings from the front that shall tell him the th were there 

and the remnant rescued. Even then, he knows, he and his long Spring- 
fields will be needed. The cavalry can fight their way in to the succor 
of the besieged, but once there will be themselves surrounded and too 
few in numbers to begin aggressive movements. He and his will in- 
deed be welcome reinforcements ; and so they trudge ahead. 

The moon is up and it is nearly ten o’clock when high up on the 


296 


FROM THE RANKS. 


rolling divide the springs are reached, and, barely Trailing to quench 
their thirst in the cooling waters, the wearied men roll themselves in 
their blankets under the giant trees, and, guarded by a few outlying 
pickets, are soon asleep. Most of the officers have sprawled ar und a 
little fire and are burning their boot-leather thereat. The colon d, his 
adjutant, and the doctor are curled up under a tent-fly that serves by 
day as a wrap for the rations and cooking-kit they carry on pack- mule. 
Two company commanders, — the Alpha and Omega of the ten, as 
Major Sloat dubbed them, — the senior and junior in rank, Chester and 
Armitage by name, have rolled themselves in their blankets under an- 
other tent-fly and are chatting in low tones before dropping off to sleep. 
They have been inseparable on the journey thus far, and the colonel 
has had two or three long talks with them ; but who knows what the 
morrow may bring forth ? There is still much to settle. 

One officer, he of the guard, is still afoot, and trudging about among 
the trees, looking after his sentries. Another officer, also alone, is 
sitting in silence smoking a pipe : it is Mr. Jerrold. 

Cleared though he is of the charges originally brought against him 
in the minds of his colonel and Captain Chester, he has lost caste with 
his fellows and with them. Only two or three men have been made 
aware of the statement which acquitted him, but every one knows in- 
stinctively that he was saved by Nina Beaubien, and that in accepting 
his release at her hands he had put her to a cruel expense. Every man 
among his brother officers knows in some way that he has been ac- 
quitted of having compromised Alice' Benwick’s fair fame only by an 
alibi that correspondingly harmed Another. The fact now generally 
known, that they were betrothed, and that the engagement was openly 
announced, made no difference. Without being able to analyze his 
conduct, the regiment was satisfied that it had been selfish and con- 
temptible ; and that was enough to warrant giving him the cold shoulder. 
He was quick to see and take the hint, and, in bitter distress of mind, 
to withdraw himself from their com})anionship. He had hoped and 
expected that his eagerness to go with them on the wild and sudden 
campaign would reinstate him in their good graces, but it failed utterly. 

Any man would soBk was the verdict of the informal council 
hold by the officers, He would have been a poltroon if he hadn’t 
sought to go; but, while he isn’t a poltroon, he has done a contemptible, 
thing.”. And so it stood. Hollins had cTit him dead, refused his hand, 
and denied him a chance to explain. Tell hirn he can’t explain,” way 


FBOM THE RANKS. 


297 


the savage reply he sent by the adjutant, who consented to carry Jer- 
rold’s message in order that he might have fair i:>lay. He knows, 
without explanation, the wrong lie lias done to more than one. 1 won’t 
have anything to do with him.’^ 

Others avoided him, and only coldly spoke to him when speech was 
necessary. Chester treated him with marked aversion ; the colonel 
would not look at him ; only Armitage — his captain — liad a decent 
word for him at any time, and even he was stern and cold. The most 
envied and careless of the entire command, the Adonis, the beau, the 
crack shot, the graceful leader in all garrison gayeties, the beautiful 
dancer, rider, tennis-player, the adored of so many sentimental women 
at Sibley, pQor Jerrold had found his level, and his proud and sensitive 
though selfish heart was breaking. 

Sitting alone under the trees, he had taken a sheet of paper from 
his p cket-case and was writing by the light of the rising moon. One 
letter was short and easily written, for with a few words he had brought 
it to a close, then folded and in a bold and vigorous hand addressed it. 
The other was far longer ; and over this one, thinking deeply, erasing 
some words and pondering much over others, he spent a long hour. It 
was nearly midnight, and he was chilled to the heart, when he stiffly 
rose and took his way among the blanketed groups to the camp-fire 
around which so many of his wearied comrades were sleeping the sleep 
of the tired soldier. Here he tore to fragments and scattered in the 
embers some notes and letters that were in his pockets. They blazed 
up brightly, and by the glare he stood one moment studying young 
Rollinses smooth and placid features; then he looked around on the 
unconscious circle of bronzed and bearded faces. There w^ere many 
types of soldier there, — men who had led brigades through the great 
war and gone back to the humble bars of the line-officer at its close ; 
men who had led fierce charges against the swarming Indians in the 
rough old days of the first prairie railways ; men who had won dis- 
tinction and honorable mention in hard and trying frontier service ; 
men who had their faults and foibles and weaknesses like other men, 
and were aggressive or compliant, strong-willed or yielding, overbearing 
or meek, as are their brethren in other walks of life ; men who were 
simple of heart, single in purpose and ambition, diverse in character- 
istics, but unanimous in one trait, — no meanness could live among 
them ; an<l Jerrold’s heart sank within him, colder, lower, stonier than 
before, as he looked from face to face and cast up mentally the sum of 
N* 


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each man^s character. His hospitality had been boundless, his bounty 
lavish ; one and all they had eaten of his loaf and drunk of his cup ; 
but was there among them one who could say of him, He is generous 
and I stand his friend’^? Was there one of them, one of theirs, for 
whom he had ever denied himself a pleasure, great or small ? He 
looked at poor old Gray, with his wrinkled, anxious face, and thought 
of his distress of mind. Only a few thousands — not three years^ pay — 
had the veteran scraped and saved and stored away for his little girl, 
whose heart was aching with its first cruel sorrow , — his work, his un- 
doing, his cursed, selfish greed for adulation, his reckless love of love. 
The morrow’s battle, if it came, might leave her orj)haned and alone, 
and, poor as it was, a father’s pitying sympathy could not be her help 
with the coming year. Would Gray mourn him if the fortune of war 
made him the victim? Would any one of those averted faces look with 
pity and regret upon his stiffening form? Would there be any one on 
earth to whom his death would be a sorrow, but Nina? Would it even 
be a blow to her ? She loved him wildly, he knew that ; but would she 
did she but dream the truth ? He knew her nature well. He knew 
how quickly such burning love could turn to fiercest hate when con- 
vinced that the object was utterly untrue. He had said nothing to her 
of the photograph, nothing at all of Alice except to protest time and 
again that his attentions to her were solely to win the good will of the 
colonel’s family and of the colonel himself, so that he might be proof 
against the machinations of his foes. And yet had ho not, that very 
night on which he crossed the stream and let her peril her name and 
honor for one stolen interview — had he not gone to her exultant wel- 
come with a traitorous knowledge gnawing at his heart? That very 
night, before they parted at the colonel’s door had he not lied to Alice 
Renwick ? — had he not denied the story of his devotion to IMiss Beau- 
bien, and was not his practised eye watching eagerly the beautiful dark 
face for one sign that the news was welcome, and so precipitate the 
avowal trembling on his lips that it was her he madly loved, — not 
Nina? Though she hurriedly bade him good-night, though she was 
unprepared for any such announcement, he well knew that Alice Ren- 
wick’s heart fluttered at the earnestness of his manner, and that he had 
indicated far more than he had said. Fear — not love — had drawn him 
to Nina Beaubien that night, and hope had centred on her more beau- 
tiful rival, when the discoveries of the night involved him in the first 
trembling symptoms of the downfall to come. And he was to have 


FROM THE RANKS. 


299 


spent the morning with her, the woman to whom he had lied in word, 
while she to whom he had lied in word and deed was going from him, 
not to return until the german, and even then he planned treachery. 
He meant to lead with Alice Renwick and claim that it must be with 
the colonePs daughter because the ladies of the garrison were the givers. 
Then, he knew, Nina would not come at all, and, possibly, might quarrel 
with him on that ground. What could have been an easier solution of 
his troublous predicament? She would break their secret engagement ; 
he would refuse all reconciliation, and be free to devote himself to Alice. 
But all these grave complications had arisen. Alice would not come. 
Nina wrote demanding that he should lead with her, and that he should 
meet her at St. Croix ; and then came the crash. He owed his safety 
to her self-sacrifice, and now must give up all hope of Alice Renwick. 
He had accepted the announcement of their engagement. He could 
not do less, after all that had happened and the painful scene at their 
parting. And yet would it not be a blessing to her if he were killed ? 
Even now in his self-abnegation and misery he did not fully realize 
how mean he was, — how mean he seemed to others. He resented in 
his heart what Sloat had said of him but the day before, little caring 
whether he heard it or not : It would be a mercy to that poor girl if 
Jerrold were killed. He will break her heart with neglect, or drive 
her mad with jealousy, inside of a year.’^ But the regiment seemed to 
agree with Sloat. 

And so in all that little band of comrades he could call no man 
friend. One after another he looked upon the unconscious faces, cold 
and averted in the oblivion of sleep, but not more cold, not more dis- 
trustful, than when he had vainly sought among them one relenting 
glance in the early moonlight that battle eve in bivouac. He threw 
his arms upward, shook his head with hopeless gesture, then buried hk 
face in the sleeves of his rough campaign overcoat and strode blindly 
from their midst. 

Early in the morning, an hour before daybreak, the shivering out- 
post crouching in a hollow to the southward catch sight of two dim 
figures shooting suddenly up over a distant ridge, — horsemen, they 
know at a glance, — and these two come loping down the moonlit trail 
over which two nights before had marched the cavalry speeding to the 
rescue, over which in an hour the regiment itself must be on the move 
Old campaigners are two of the picket, and they have been especially 
cautioned to be on the lookout for couriers coming back along the trail. 


300 


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They spring to their feet, in readiness to welcome or repel, as the sentry 
rings out his sharp and sudden challenge. 

“ Couriers from the corral,’^ is the jubilant answer. This Colonel 
Maynard’s outfit?” 

‘‘ Ay, ay, sonny,” is the unmilitary but characteristic answer. 

^Yhat’s your news ?” 

Got there in time, and saved what’s left of ’em ; but it’s a hell- 
hole, and you fellows are wanted quick as you can come, — thirty miles 
ahead. Where’s the colonel ?” 

The corporal of the guard goes back to the bivouac, leading the 
two arrivals. One is a scout, a plainsman born and bred, the other a 
sergeant of cavalry. They dismount in the timber and picket their 
horses, then follow on foot the lead of their companion of the guard. 
While the corporal and the scout proceed to the wagon-fly and fumble 
at the opening, the tall sergeant stands silently a little distance in their 
rear, and the occupants of a neighboring shelter — the counterpart of 
the colonel’s — begin to stir, as though their light slumber had been 
broken by the smothered sound of footsteps. One of them sits up and 
peers out at the front, gazing earnestly at the tall figure standing easily 
there in the flickering light. Then he hails in low tones : 

That you, Mr. Jerrold ? What is the matter?” 

And the tall figure faces promptly towards the hailing voice. The 
spurred heels come together with a click, the gauntleted hand rises in 
soldierly salute to the broad brim of the scoutuig-hat, and a deep voice 
answers, respectfully, — 

“ It is not Mr. Jerrold, sir. It is Sergeant McLeod, th Cavalry, 

just in with despatches.” 

Armitage springs to his feet, sheds his shell of blankets, and steps 
forth into the glade with his eyes fixed eagerly on the shadowy form in 
front. He peers under the broad brim, as though striving to see the 
eyes and features of the tall dragoon. 

^^Did you get there in time?” he asks, half wondering whether 
that was really the question uppermost in his mind. 

‘^In time to save the survivors, sir; but no attack will be made 
until the infantry get there.” 

Were you not at Sibley last month?” asks the captain, quickly. 

Yes, sir, — with the com p^ui tors.” 

You went back before your regimental team, did you not?” 

I No, sir : I went back with them.” 


FROM THE RANKS. 


m 


“ Yov. were relieved from duty at Sibley and ordered back bef.ie 
them, were you not?’’ 

Even in the pallid light Armitage could see the hesitation, the flurry 
of surprise and distress, in the sergeant’s face. 

Don’t fear to tell me, man : I would rather hear it than any 
news you could give me. I would rather know you were not Sergeant 
McLeod than any fact you could tell. Speak low, man, but tell me 
here and now. Whatever motive you may have had for this disguise, 
whatever anger or sorrows in the past, you must sink them now to save 
the honor of the woman your madness has perilled. Answer me, for 
your sister’s sake : are you not Fred Ren wick?” 

“ Do you swear to me she is in danger ?” 

By all that’s sacred ; and you ought to know it.” 

I am Fred Renwick. Isow what can I do?” 

XVIII. 

The sun is not an hour high, but the bivouac at the springs is far 
behind. With advance-guard and flankers well out, the regiment is 
tramping its way, full of eagerness and spirit. The men can hardly 
refrain from bursting into song, but, although at route step,” the fact 
that Indian scouts have already been sighted scurrying from bluff to blufl 
is sufficient to warn all hands to be silent and alert. Wilton with his 
company is on the dangerous flank, and guards it well. Armitage with 
Company B covers the advance, and his men are strung out in long 
skirmish-line across the trail wherever the ground is sufficiently open 
to admit of deployment. Where it is not, they spring ahead and ex- 
plore every point where Indian may lurk, and render ambuscade of 
the main column impossible. With Armitage is McLeod, the cavalry 
sergeant who made the night ride with the scout who bore the de- 
spatches. The scout has galloped on towards the railway with news of 
the rescue, the sergeant guides the infantry reinforcement. Observant 
men have noted that Armitage and the sergeant have had a vast deal 
to say to each other during the chill hours of the early morn. Others 
have noted that at the first brief halt the captain rode back, called 
Colonel Maynard to one side, and spoke to him in low tones. The 
colonel was seen to start with astonishment. Then he said a few words 
to his second in command, and rode forward with Armitage to join the 
advance. When the regiment moved on again and the head of column 


302 


FROM THE BANKS. 


hove in sight of the skirmishers, they saw that the colonel, Arniitage, 
and the sergeant of cavalry were riding side by side, and that the officers 
were paying close attention to all the dragoon was saying. All were 
eager to hear the particulars of the condition of affairs at the corral, 
and all were disposed to be envious of the mounted captain wdio could 
ride alongside the one participant in the rescuing charge and get it all 
at first hand. The field-officers, of course, were mounted, but everv 
line-officer marched afoot with his men, except that three horses had 
been picked up at the railway and impressed by the quartermaster in 
case of need, and these were assigned to the captains who ha})pened to 
command the skirmishers and flankers. 

But no man had the faintest idea w’hat manner of story that tall 
sergeant was telling. It would have been of interest to every soldier 
in the command, but to no one so much so as to the two who were his 
absorbed listeners. Arniitage, before their early march, had frankly 
and briefly set before him his suspicions as to the case, and the trouble 
in which Miss Benwick was involved. No time was to be lost. Any 
moment might find them plunged in fierce battle ; and who could fore- 
tell the results? — who could say what might happen to prevent this 
her vindication ever reaching the ears of her accusers? Some men 
wondered why it was that Colonel Maynard sent his compliments to 
Captain Chester and begged that at the next halt he would join him. 
The halt did not come for a long hour, and when it did come it was 
very brief, but Chester received another message, and went forward to 
find his colonel sitting in a little grove with the cavalryman, while 
the orderly held their horses a short space away. Armitage had gone 
forward to his advance, and Chester showed no surprise at the sight 
of the sergeant seated side by side with the colonel and in confidential 
converse with him. There was a quaint, sly twinkle in Maynard’s 
eyes as he greeted his old friend. 

“ Chester,” said he, I want you to be better acquainted with my 
step-son, Mr. Benwick. He has an apology to make to you.” 

The tall soldier had risen the instant he caught sight of the new- 
comer, and even at the half-playful tone of the colonel would relax in 
no degree his soldierly sense of the proprieties. He stood erect and held 
his hand at the salute, only very slowly lowering it to take the one 
so frankly extended him by the captain, who, however, was grave and 
ipiiet. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


303 


I have suspected as much since daybreak/’ he said ; and no 
man is gladder to know it is you than I am.” 

You would have known it before, sir, had I had the faintest idea 
of the danger in which my foolhardiness had involved my sister. The 
colonel has told you of my story. I have told him and Captain 
Armitage what M to my mad freak at Sibley ; and, while I have 
much tc make amends for, I want to apologize for the blow I gave 
you that night on the terrace. I was far more scared than you were, 
isir.” 

I think we can atford to forgive him, Chester. He knocked us 
both out,” said the colonel. 

Chester bowed gravely. That was the easiest part of the aifair 
to forgive,” he said, ^^and it is hardly for me, I presume, to be the 
only one to blame the sergeant for the trouble that has involved us 
all, especially your household, colonel.” 

It was expensive masquerading, to say the least,” replied the colo- 
nel ; but he never realized the consequences until Armitage told him 
to-day. You must hear his story in brief, Chester. It is needful that 
three or four of us know it, so that some may be left to set things right 
at JSibley. God grant us all safe return !” he added, piously, and with 
deep emotion. “ I can far better appreciate our home and happiness 
than I could a month ago. Now, Ren wick, tell the captain what you 
have told us.” 

And briefly it was told : how in his youthful fury he had sworn 
never again to set foot within the door of the father and mother who had 
so wronged the poor girl he loved with boyish fervor ; how he called 
down the vengeance of heaven upon them in his frenzy and distress ; 
how he had sworn never again to set eyes on their faces. “ May God 
strike me dead if ever I return to this roof until she is avenged ! 
May He deal with you as you have dealt with her !” was the curse that 
flew from his wild lips, and with that he left them, stunned. He went 
West, was soon penniless, and, caring not what he did, seeking change, 
adventure, anything to take him out of his past, he enlisted in the 

cavalry, and was speedily drafted to the th, which was just starting 

forth on a stirring summer campaign. He was a fine horseman, a fine 
shot, a man who instantly attracted the notice of his officers : the cam- 
|j»aign was full of danger, adventure, rapid and constant marching, and 
I »efore he knew it or dreamed it possible he had become deeply in- 
terested in his new life. Only in the monotony of a month or two in 


304 


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garrison that winter did the service seem intolerable. His comrades 
were rough, in the main, but thoroughly good-hearted, and he soon 
won their esteem. The spring sent them again into the field ; another 
stirring campaign, and here he won his stripes, and words of praise 
from the lips of a veteran general officer, as well as the promise of 
future reward ; and then the love of soldierly deeds and the thirst for 
soldierly renown took firm hold in his breast. He began to turn towards 
the mother and fatlier who had been wrapped up in his future, — who 
loved him so devotedly. He was forgetting his early and passionate 
love, and the bitter sorrow of her death was losing fast its poignant 
power to steel him against his kindred. He knew they could not but 

be proud of tlie record he had made in the ranks of the gallant th, 

and then he shrank and shivered when he recalled the dreadful words 
of his curse. He had made up his mind to write, implore pardon for 
his hideous and unfilial language, and invoke their interest in his 
career, when, returning to Fort Raines for supplies, he picked up a 
New York paper in the reading-room and read the announcement of 
his father’s death) ^^wffiose health had been broken ever since the dis- 
appearance of his only son, two years before.” The memory of his 
malediction had, indeed, come home to him, and he fell, stricken by a 
sudden and unaccountable blow. It seemed as though his heart had 
given one wild leap, then stopped forever. Things did not go so well 
after this. He brooded over his words, and believed that an avenging 
God had launched the bolt that killed the father as pimishment to the 
stubborn and recreant son. He then bethought him of his mother, of 
pretty Alice, who had loved him so as a little girl. He could not 
bring himself to write, but through inquiries he learned that the house 
was closed and that they had gone abroad. He plodded on in his duties 
a trying year : then came more lively field-work and reviving interest. 
He was forgetting entirely the sting of his first great sorrow, and 
mourning gravely the gulf he had placed Twixt him and bis. He 
thought time and again of his cruel words, and something began to 
whisper to him he must see that mother again at once, kiss her hand, 
and implore her forgiveness, or she, too, would be stricken suddenly, 
lie saved up his money, hoping that after the summer’s rifle-work at 
Sibley he might get a furlough and go East ; and the night he arrived 
at the fort, tired with his long railway-journey and panting after a long 
and difficult climb up-hill, his mother’s face swam suddenly before his 
eyes, and he felt himself going down. When they brought him to, 


FROM THE RANKS. 


305 


lie beard that the ladies were Mrs. Maynard and her daughter Miss 
R-enwick, — his own mother, remarried, his own Alice, a grown young 
woman. This was, indeed, news to put him in a flutter and spoil his 
shooting. He realized at once that the gulf was wider than ever. 
How could he go to her now, the wife of a colonel, and he an enlisted 
man ? Like other soldiers, he forgot that the line of demarcation was 
one of discipline, not of sympathy. He did not realize what any 
soldier among his officers would gladly have told him, that he was 
most worthy to reveal himself now, — a non-commissioned officer whose 
record was an honor to himself and to his regiment, a soldier of whom 
officers and comrades alike were proud. He never dreamed — indeed, 
how few there are who do ! — that a man of his character, standing, 
and ability is honored and respected by the very men whom the cus- 
toms of the service require him to speak with only when spoken to. 
He supposed that only as Fred Renwick could he extend his hand to 
one of their number, whereas it was under his soldier name he won 
their trust and admiration, and it was as Sergeant McLeod the officers 

of the th were backing him for a commission that would make him 

what they deemed him fit to be, — their equal. Unable to penetrate the 
armor of reserve and discipline which separates the officer from the 
rank and file, he never imagined that the colonel would have been the 
first to welcome him had he known the truth. He believed that now 
his last chance of seeing his mother was gone until that coveted com- 
mission was won. Then came another blow : the doctor told him that 
with his heart-trouble he could never pass the physical examination : 
he could not hope for preferment, then, and must see her as he was, and 
see her secretly and alone. Then came blow after blow. His shooting 
had failed, so had that of others of his regiment, and he was ordered 
to return in charge of the party early on the morrow. The order 
reached him late in the evening, and before breakfast-time on the fol- 
lowing day he was directed to start with his party for town, thence by 
rail to his distant post. That night, in desperation, he made his plan. 
Twice before he had strolled down to the post and with yearning eyes 
had studied every feature of the colonePs house. He dared ask no 
questions of servants or of the men in garrison, but he learned enough 
to know which rooms were theirs, and he had noted that the windows 
were always open. If he could only see their loved faces, kneel and 
kiss his mother’s hand, pray God to forgive him, he could go away 
belie ving that he had undone the spell and levoked the malediction 

26 * 


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of his early youth. It was hazardous, but worth the danger. He 
could go in peace and sin no more towards mother, at least ; and then 
if she mourned and missed him, could he not find it oui some day and 
make himself known to her after his discharge ? He slipped out ot 
camp, leaving his boots behind, and wearing his light Apache moccasins 
and flannel shirt and trousers. Danger to himself he had no great 
fear of. If by any chance mother or sister should wake, he had but 
to stretch forth his hand and say, It is only I, — Fred.^^ Danger to 
them he never dreamed of. 

Strong and athletic, despite his slender frame, he easily lifted the 
ladder from Jerrold^s fence, and, dodging the sentry when he spied him 
at the gate, finally took it down back of the coloneFs and raised it to a 
rear window. By the strangest chance the window was closed, and he 
could not budge it. Then he heard the challenge of a sentry around 
on the east front, and had just time to slip down and lower the ladder 
when he heard the rattle of a sword and knew it must be the officer 
of the day. There was no time to carry off the ladder. He left it 
lying where it was, and sprang down the steps towards the station. 
Soon he heard Number Five challenge, and knew the officer had passed 
on : he waited some time, but nothing occurred to indicate that the 
ladder was discovered, and then, plucking up courage and with a mut- 
tered prayer for guidance and protection, he stole up-hill again, raised 
the ladder to the west wall, noiselessly ascended, peered in Alice’s win- 
dow and could see a faint night-light burning in the hall beyond, but 
that all was darkness there, stole around on the roof of the piazza to 
the hall window, stepped noiselessly upon the sill, climbed over the 
lowered sash, and found himself midway between the rooms. He 
could hear the colonel’s placid snoring and the regular breathing of the 
other sleepers. No time was to be lost. Shading the little night-lamp 
with one hand, he entered the open door, stole to the bedside, took one 
long look at his mother’s face, knelt, breathed upon, but barely brushed 
with his trembling lips, the queenly white hand that lay upon the co\ 
erlet, poured forth one brief prayer to God for protection and blessing 
for her and forgiveness for him, retraced his steps, and caught sight of 
the lovely picture of Alice in the Directoire costume. He longed for it 
and could not resist. She had grown so beautiful, so exquisite. He 
took it, frame and all, carried it into her room, slipped the card from 
its place and hid it inside the breast of his shirt, stowed the frame away 
behind her sofa-pillow, then looked long at the lovely pictur(3 she her- 


FROM THE RANKS. 


307 


self made, lying there sleeping sweetly and peacefully amid the white 
drapings of her dainty bed. Then Twas time to go. He put the lamp 
back in the hall, passed through her room, out at her window, and 
down the ladder, and had it well on the way back to the hooks on 
Jerrold’s fence when seized and challenged by the officer of the day. 
Mad terror possessed him then. He struck blindly, dashed off in 
panicky flight, paid no heed to sentry’s cry or whistling missile, but 
tore like a racer up the path and never slackened speed till Sibley was 
far behind. 

When morning came, the order that they should go was temporarily 
suspended : some prisoners were sent to a neighboring military prison, 
and he was placed in charge, and on his return from this duty learned 
that the colonel’s family had gone to Sablon. The next thing there 
was some strange talk that worried him, — a story that one of the men 
who had a sweetheart who was second girl at Mrs. Hoyt’s brought out 
to camp, — a story that there was an officer who was too much in love 
with Alice to keep away from the house even after the colonel so 
ordered, and that he was prowling around the other night and the 
colonel ordered Leary to shoot him, — Leary, who was on post on 
Number Five. He felt sure that something was wrong, — felt sure that 
it was due to his night visit, — and his first impulse was to find his 
mother and confide the truth to her. He longed to see her again, and, 
if harm had been done, to make himself known and explain everything. 
Having no duties to detain him, he got a pass to visit town and permis- 
sion to be gone a day or more. On Saturday evening he ran down to 
Sablon, drove over, as Captain Armitage had already told them, and, 
j)eering in his mother’s room, saw her, still up, though in her night- 
dress. He never dreamed of the colonel’s being out and watching. 
He had scouted” all those trees, and no one was nigh. Then he 
softly called ; she heard, and was coming to him, when again came fierce 
attack ; he had all a soldier’s reverence for the person of the colonel, 
and would never have harmed him had he known ’twas he : it was the 
night watchman that had grappled with him, he supposed, and he had 
no compunctions in sending him to grass. Then he fled again, knowing 
that he had only made bad worse, walked all that night to the station 
next north of Sablon, — a big town where the early morning train 
always stopped, — and by ten on Sunday morning he was in uniform 
again and off with his regimental comrades under orders to haste 
to their station, — there was trouble with the Indians at Spirit Rock 


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and the th were held in readiness. From beneath his scoiiting- 

shirt he drew a flat packet, an Indian case, which he carefully iin- 
n)lled, and there in its folds of wrappings was the lovely Directoire 
photograph. 

^VHiose, then, was the one that Sloat had seen in Jerrold’s room? 
It was this that Armitage had gone forward to determine, and he found 
his sad-eyed lieutenant with the skirmishers. 

“Jerrold,^’ said he, with softened manner, '‘a strange thing is 
brought to light this morning, and I lose no time in telling you. The 
man who was seen at Maynard’s quarters, coming from Miss Fenwick’s 
room, was her own brother and the colonel’s step-son. He was the 
man who took the photograph from Mrs. Maynard’s room, and has 
proved it this very day, — this very hour.” Jerrold glanced up in 
sudden surprise. “ He is with us now, and only one thing remains, 
which you can clear up. We are going into action, and I may not get 
through, nor you, nor — who knows who ? Will you tell us now how 
you came by your copy of that photograph ?” 

For answer Jerrold fumbled in his pocket a moment and drew forth 
two letters ; 

‘‘ I wrote these last night, and it was my intention to see that you 
had them before it grew very hot. One is addressed to you, the other 
to Miss Beaubien. You had better take them now,” he said, wearily. 

There may be no time to talk after this. Send hers after it’s over, 
and don’t read yours until then.” 

“ Why, I don’t understand this, exactly,” said Armitage, puzzled. 

Can’t you tell me about the picture ?” 

No. I promised not to while I lived; but it’s the simplest matter 
in the world, and no one at the colonel’s had any hand in it. They 
never saw this one that I got to show Sloat. It is burned now. I 
said ’twas given me. That was hardly the truth. I have paid for it 
dearly enough.” 

And this note explains it ?” 

Yes. You can read it to-morrow.” 

XIX. 

And the morrow has come. Down in a deep and bluff-shadowecV 
valley, hung all around with picturesque crags and pine-crested heights, 
under a cloudless September sun whose warmth is tempered bv the 


FROM THE RANKS. 


009 


mountain-breeze, a thousand rough-looking, bronzed and bearded and 
powder -blackened men are resting after battle. 

Here and there on distant ridge and jioint the cavalry vedettes keep 
vigilant watch against surprise or renewed attack. Down along the 
banks of a clear, purling stream a sentry paces slowly by the brown 
line of rifles, swivel-stacked in the sunshine. Men by the dozen are 
washing their blistered feet and grimy hands and faces in the cool, re- 
freshing water; men by the dozen Tie soundly sleeping, some in the 
broad glare, some in the shade of the little clump of willows, all heed- 
less of the pestering swarms of flies. Out on the broad, grassy slopes, 
side-lined and watched by keen-eyed guards, the herds of cavalry horses 
are quietly grazing, forgetful of the wild excitement of yester-even. 
Every now and then some one of them lifts his head, pricks up his 
ears, and snorts and stamps suspiciously as he snifPs at the puffs of 
smoke that come drifting up the valley from the fires a mile away. 
The waking men, too, bestow an occasional comment on the odor which 
greets their nostrils. Down-stream where the fires are burning are 
the blackened remnants of a wagon-train : tires, bolts, and axles are 
lying about, but all wood-work is in smouldering ashes ; so, too, is all 
that remains of several hundred-weight of stores and supplies destined 
originally to nourish the Indians, but, by them, diverted to feed the 
fire. 

There is a big circle of seething flame and rolling smoke here, too, 
— a malodorous neighborhood, around which fatigue-parties are work- 
ing with averted heads; and among them some surly and unwilling 
Indians, driven to labor at the muzzle of threatening revolver or car- 
bine, aid in dragging to the flames carcass after carcass of horse and 
mule, and in gathering together and throwing on the pyre an array of 
miscellaneous soldier garments, blouses, shirts, and trousers, all more 
or less hacked and blood-stained, — all of no more use to mortal wearer. 

Out on the southern slopes, just where a ravine crowded with wild- 
rose bushes ope^s into the valley, more than half the command is gath- 
ered, formed in rectangular lines about a number of shallow, elongated 
pits, in each of which there lies the stiffening form of a comrade who 
but yesterday joined in the battle-cheer that burst upon the valley with 
the setting sun. Silent and reverent they stand in their rough cam- 
paign garb. The escort of infantry rests on arms f the others bow 
their uncovered heads, and it is the voice of the veteran colonel hat, 
in accejits trembling with sympathy and emotion, renders the last 


310 


FROM THE RANKS. 


tribute to fallen comrades and lifts to heaven the prayers for the dtadc 
Then see ! The mourning groups break away from the southern side ; 
the brown rifles of the escort are lifted in air; the listening rocks 
resound to the sudden ring of the flashing volley ; the soft, low, 
wailing good-by of the trumpets goes floating up the vale, and soon 
the burial-parties are left alone to cover the once familiar faces with 
the earth to which the soldier must return, and the comrades who are 
left, foot and dragoon, come marching, silent, back to camp. 

A nd when the old regiment begins its homeward journey, leaving 
the well-won field to the fast-arriving commands and bidding hearty 
soldier farewell to the cavalry comrades whose friendship they gained 
in the front of a savage foe, the company that was the first to land its 
fire in the fight goes back with diminished numbers and under com- 
mand of its second lieutenant. Alas, poor Jerrold ! 

There is a solemn little group around the camp-fire the night before 
they go. Frank Armitage, flat on his back, with a rifle-bullet through 
his thigh, but taking things very coolly for all that, is having a quiet 
conference with his colonel. Such of the wounded of the entire com- 
mand as are well enough to travel by easy stages to the railway go with 
Maynard and the regiment in the morning, and Sergeant McLeod, with 
his sabre-arm in a sling, is one of these. But the captain of Company 
B must wait until the surgeons can lift him along in an ambulance and 
all fear of fever has subsided. To the colonel and Chester he hands 
the note which is all that is left to comfort poor Nina Beaubien. To 
them he reads aloud the note addressed to himself ; 

“ You are right in saying that the matter of my possession of that 
photograph should be explained. I seek no longer to palliate my 
action. In making that puppyish bet with Sloat I did believe that I 
could induce Miss Benwick or her mother to let me have a copy ; but 
I was refused so positively that I knew it was useless. This simply 
added to my desire to have one. The photographer was the same that 
took the pictures and furnished the albums for our class at graduation, 
and I, more than any one, had been instrumental in getting the order 
for him against very active opposition. He had always professed the 
greatest gratitude to me and a willingness to do anything for me. T 
wrote to him in strict confidence, told him of the intimate and close 
relations existing between the colonePs family and me, told him 1 
wanted it to enlarge and present to her mother on her aj)proaching 
birthday, and promised him that I would never reveal how I came by 


FBOM THE BANKS. 


311 


tlie picture so loug as I lived ; and he sent me one, — just in time. 
Have I not paid lieavily for my sin 

No one spoke for a moment. Chester was the first to break the 
silence : 

Poor fellow ! He kept his word to the photographer ; but what 
was it worth to a woman 

There had been a week of wild anxiety and excitement at Sibley. 
It was known through the columns of the press that the regiment had 
hurried forward from the railway the instant it reached the Culoradu 
trail, that it could not hope to get through to the valley of the Spirit 
Wolf without a fight, and that the moment it succeeded in joining 
hands with the cavalry already there a vigorous attack would be made 
on the Indians. The news of the rescue of the survivors of Thornton’s 
command came first, and with it the tidings that Maynard and his regi- 
ment were met only thirty miles from the scene and were pushing for- 
ward. The next news came two days later, and a wail went up even 
while men were shaking hands and rejoicing over the gallant fight that 
had been made, and women were weeping for joy and thanking God 
that those whom they held dearest were safe. It was down among the 
wives of the sergeants and other veterans that the blow struck hardest 
at Sibley ; for the stricken officers were unmarried men, while among 
the rank and file there were several who never came back to the little 
ones who bore their name. Company B had suffered most, for the 
Indians had charged fiercely on its deployed but steadfast line. Armi- 
tage almost choked and broke down when telling the colonel about it 
that night as he lay under the willows : It was the first smile I had 
seen on his face since I got back, — that with which he looked up in 
my eyes and whispered good-by, — and died, — just after we drove them 
back. My turn came later.” Old Sloat, too, ^Giad his customary 
crack,” as he expressed it, — a shot through the wrist that made him 
hop and swear savagely until some of the men got to laughing at the 
comical figure he cut, and then he turned and damned them with hearty 
good will, and seemed all oblivious of the bullets that went zipping 
past his frosting head. Young Rollins, to his inexpressible pride and 
comfort, had a build -hole through his scouting-hat and another through 
his shoulder-strap that raised a big welt on the white skin beneath, but, 
to the detriment of promotion, no captain was killed, and Jerrold gave 
the only file. 

The one question ti Sibley was, What will Nina Beaubien do?” 


312 


FROM THE RANKS. 


She did nothing. She would see nobody from the instant the news 
came. She had hardly slept at night, — was always awake at dawn and 
out at the gate to get the earliest copy of the morning papers ; but tlie 
news reached them at nightfall, and when some of the ladies from the 
fort drove in to otfer their sympathy and condolence in the morning, 
and to make tender inquiry, the answer at the door was that Miss 
Nina saw nobody, that her mother alone was with her, and that she 
was very still.’’ And so it went for some days. Then there came the 
return of the command to Sibley ; and hundreds of people went up 
from town to see the six companies of the fort garrison march up 
the winding road amid the thunder of welcome from the guns of the 
light battery and the exultant strains of the band. Mrs. Maynard and 
Alice were the only ladies of the circle who were not there : a son and 
brother had joined them, after long absence, at Aunt Grace’s cottage 
at Sablon, was the explanation, and the colonel would bring them home 
in a few days, after he had attended to some important matters at the 
fort. In the first place, Chester had to see to it that the tongue of 
scandal was slit, so far as the colonel’s household was concerned, and 
all good people notified that no such thing had hapj)eiied as was popu- 
larly supposed (and everybody” received the announcement with the 
remark that she knew all along it couldn’t be so), and that a grievous 
and absurd but most mortifying blunder had been made. It was a 
most unpleasant ghost to “ down,” the shadow of that scandal, for it 
would come up to the surface of garrison chat at all manner of con- 
fidential moments ; but no man or woman could safely speak of it to 
Chester. It was gradually assumed that he was the man who had done 
all the blundering and that he was supersensitive on the subject. 

There was another thing never satisfactorily explained to some of 
the garrison people, and that was Nina Beaubien’s strange conduct. In 
less than a week ohe was seen on the street in colors, — brilliant colors, 
— when it was known she had ordered deep mourning, and then she 
suddenly disappeared and went with her silent old mother abroad. 
To this day no woman in society understands it, for when she came 
back, long, long afterwards, it was a subject on which she would never 
speak. There were one or two who ventured to ask, and the answer 
was, For reasons that concern me alone.” But it took no great power 
of mental vision to see that her heart wore black for him forever. 

His letter explained it all. She had received it with a paroxysm 
of passionate grief and joy, kissed it, covered it with wildest caresses 


FROM THE RANKS. 


313 


before she began to read, and then, little by little, as the words un- 
folded before her staring eyes, turned cold as stone : 

‘‘It is my last night of life, Nina, and I am glad ’tis so. Proud 
and sensitive as I am, the knowledge that every man in my regiment 
has turned from me, — that I have not a friend among them, — that 
there is no longer a place for me in their midst, — more than all, that I 
deserve their contempt, — ^has broken my heart. We will be in battle 
before the setting of another sun. Any man who seeks death in In- 
dian fight can find it easily enough, and I can compel their respect in 
spite of themselves. They will not recognize me, living, as one of them ; 
but dying on the field, they have to place me on their roll of honor. 

“But now I turn to you. What have I been, — what am I, — to 
have won such love as yours ? May God in heaven forgive me for my 
past ! All too late I hate and despise the man I have been, — the man 
whom you loved. One last act of justice remains. If I died without 
it you would mourn me faithfully, tenderly, lovingly, for years, but if I 
tell the truth you will see the utter unworthiness of the man, and your 
love will turn to contempt. It is hard to do this, knowing that in 
doing it I kill the only genuine regret and dry the only tear that 
would bless my memory ; but it is the one sacrifice I can make to com- 
plete my self-humiliation, and it is the one thing that is left me that 
will free you. It will sting at first, but, like the surgeon^s knife, its 
cut is mercy. Nina, the very night I came to you on the bluffs, the 
very night you perilled your honor to have that parting interview, I 
went to you with a lie on my lips. I had told her we were nothing to 
each other, — you and I. More than that, I was seeking her love ; I 
hoped I could win her ; and had she loved me I would have turned 
from you to make her my wife. Nina, I loved Alice Benwick. Good- 
by. DonT mourn for me after this.^^ 

XX. 

They were having a family conclave at Sablon. The furlough 
granted Sergeant McLeod on account of wound received in action with 
hostile Indians would soon expire, and the question was, should he ask 
an extension, apply for a discharge, or go back and rejoin his troop ? 
It was a matter on which there was much diversity of opinion. Mrs. 
Maynard should naturally be permitted first choice, and to her wish 
there was every reason for according deep and tender consideration. 

O 


314 


FROM THE RANKS. 


No words can tell of the rapture of that reunion with her long-lost son. 
It was a scene over which the colonel could never ponder without deep 
emotion. The telegrams and letters by which he carefully prepared her 
for Frederick's coming were all insufficient. She knew well that her 
boy must have greatly changed and matured, but when this tall, 
bronzed, bearded, stalwart man sprang from the old red omnibus and 
threw his one serviceable arm around her trembling form, the mother 
was utterly overcome. Alice left them alone together a full hour before 
even she intruded, and little by little, as the days went by and Mrs. 
Maynard realized that it was really her Fred who was whistling about 
the cottage or booming trooper songs in his great basso profundo, and 
glorying in his regiment and the cavalry life he had led, a wonderful 
content and joy shone in her handsome face. It was not until the 
colonel announced that it was about time for them to think of going 
back to Sibley that the cloud came. Fred said he couldn’t go. 

In fact, the colonel himself had been worrying a little over it. As 
Fred Fenwick, the tall distinguished young man in civilian costume, 
he would be welcome anywhere ; but, though his garb was that of the 
sovereign citizen so long as his furlough lasted, there were but two 
weeks more of it left, and officially he was nothing more nor less than 
Sergeant McLeod, Troop B, th Cavalry, and there was no prece- 

dent for a colonel’s entertaining as an honored guest and social equal 
one of the enlisted men of the army. He rather hoped that Fred 
would yield to his mother’s entreaties and apply for a discharge. His 
wound and the latent trouble with his heart would probably render it 
an easy matter to obtain ; and yet he was ashamed of himself for the 
feeling. 

Then there was Alice. It was hardly to be supposed that so very high 
bred a young woman would relish the idea of being seen around Fort 
Sibley on the arm of her brother the sergeant ; but, wonderful to relate. 
Miss Alice took a radically different view of the whole situation. So 
far from wishing Fred out of the army, she importuned him day after 
day until he got out his best uniform, with its resplendent chevrons and 
stripes of vivid yellow, and the yellow helmet-cords, though they were 
but humble worsted, and when he came forth in that dress, with the 
bronze medal on his left breast and the sharpshooter’s silver cross, 
his tall athletic figure showing to such advantage, his dark, Southern, 
manly features so enhanced by contrast with his yellow facings, she 
clapped her hands with a cry of delight and sprang into his one avail- 


FROM THE RANKS. 


315 


I able arm and threw her own about his neck and kissnl him again and 
again. Even mamma had to admit he looked astonishingly well ; but 
Alice declared she would never thereafter be reconciled to seeing him in 
anything but a cavalry uniform. The colonel found her not at all of 
her mother’s way of thinking. She saw no reason why Fred should 
leave the service. Other sergeants had won their commissions every 
year : why not he? Even if it were some time in coming, was there 
shame or degradation in being a cavalry sergeant? Not a bit of it! 
Fred himself was loath to quit. He was getting a little homesick, too, 
— homesick for the boundless life and space and air of the broad 
frontier, — homesick for the rapid movement and vigorous hours in the 
I saddle and on the scout. His arm was healing, and such a delight of a 
letter had come from his captain, telling him that the adjutant had just 
been to see hin about the new staft* of the regiment. The gallant 
sergeant-major, a young Prussian of marked ability, had been killed 
early in the campaign ; the vacancy must soon be filled, and the colonel 
and the adjutant both thought at once of Sergeant McLeod. I won’t 
stand in your way, sergeant,” wrote his troop commander, “ but you 
know that old Ryan is to be discharged at the end of his sixth enlist- 
ment the 10th of next month; there is no man I would sooner see in 
his place as first sergeant of my troop than yourself, and I hate to lose 
you ; but, as it will be for the gain and the good of the whole regiment, 
you ought to accept the adjutant’s offer. All the men rejoice to heai 
you are recovering so fast, and all w ill be glad to see Sergeant McLeod 
back again.” 

Even Mrs. Maynard could not but see the pride and comfoii; this 
letter gave her son. Her own longing was to have him established in 
some business in the East ; but he said frankly he had no taste for it, 
and would only pine for the old life in the saddle. There w^ere other 
reasons, too, said he, why he felt that he could not go back to New 
York, and his voice trembled, and Mrs. Maynard said no more. It 
was the sole allusion he had made to the old, old sorrow, but it was 
plain that the recovery was incomplete. The colonel and the doctor at 
Sibley believed that Fred could be carried past the medical board by a 
little management, and everything began to look as though he w^ould 
Iiave his way. All they w^ere waiting for, said the colonel, was to hear 
from Armitage. He was still at Fort Russell wuth the head-quarters 

and several troops of the th Cavalry : his wound w^as too severe 

foi- him to travel farther for weeks to come, but he could \rrite, and he 


316 


FROM THE RANKS. 


had been consulted. They were sitting under the broad piazza at 
Sablon, looking out at the lovely, placid lake, and talking it over 
among themselves. 

I have always leaned on Armitage ever since I first came to the 
regiment and found him adjutant, said the colonel. “ I always found 
his judgment clear ; but since our last experience I have begun to look 
upon him as infallible.’^ 

Alice Kenwick’s face took on a flood of crimson as she sat there by 
her brother’s side, silent and attentive. Only within the week that fol- 
lowed their return — the colonel’s and her brother’s — had the story of 
the strange complication been revealed to them. Twice had she heard 
from Fred’s lips the story of Frank Armitage’s greeting that frosty 
morning at the springs. Time and again had she made her mother go 
over the colonel’s account of the confidence and faith he had expressed 
in there being a simple explanation of the whole mystery, and of his 
indignant refusal to attach one moment’s suspicion to her. Shocked, 
stunned, outraged as she felt at the mere fact that such a story had 
gained an instant’s credence in garrison circles, she was overwhelmed 
by the weight of circumstantial evidence that had been arrayed against 
her. Only little by little did her mother reveal it to her. Only after 
several days did Fred repeat the story of his night adventure and his 
theft of her picture, of his narrow escape, and of his subsequent visit to 
the cottage. Only gradually had her mother revealed to her the cir- 
cumstances of Jerrold’s wager with Sloat, and the direful consequences ; 
of his double absences the very nights on Avhich Fred had made his 
visits ; of the suspicions that resulted, the accusations, and his refusal 
to explain and clear her name. Mrs. Maynard felt vaguely relieved to 
see how slight an impression the young man had made on her daughter’s 
heart. Alice seemed but little surprised to hear of the engagement to 
Nina Beaubien, of her rush to his rescue, and their romantic parting. 
The tragedy of his death hushed all further talk on that subject. There 
was one on which she could not hear enough, and that was about the 
man who had been most instrumental in the rescue of her name and 
honor. Alice had only tender sorrow and no reproach for her step-father 
when, after her mother told her the story of his sad experience twenty 
years before, she related his distress of mind and suspicion when he read 
Jerrold’s letter. It was then that Alice said, And against that piece 
of evidence no man, I suppose, would hold me guiltless.” 

You are wrong, dear,” was her mother’s answer. “ It was power- 


FROM THE RANKS. 


317 


I less to move Captain Armitage. He scouted the idea of your guilt from 
I the moment he set eyes on you, and never rested until he had overturned 
I the last atom of evidence. Even I had to explain,’^ said her mother, 

. “ simply to confirm his theory of the light Captain Chester had seen, 

' and the shadows and the form at the window. It was just exactly as 
Armitage reasoned it out. I was wretched and wakeful, sleeping but 
fitfully, that night. I arose and took some bromide about three o’clock, 
I imd soon afterwards heard a fall, or a noise like one. I thought of you, 
I and got up and went in your room, and all was quiet there, but it seemed 
I close and warm : so I raised your shade, and then left both your door 
I and mine 0])en and went back to bed. I dozed away presently, and 
then woke feeling all startled again, — don’t you know ? — the sensation 
I one experiences when aroused from sleep, certain that there has been a 
strange and startling noise, and yet unable to tell what it was ? I lay 
still a moment, but the colonel slept through it all, and I wondered at 
it. I knew there had been a shot, or something, but could not bear to 
disturb him. At last I got up again and went to your room to be sure 
you were all right, and you were sleeping soundly still ; but a breeze 
was beginning to blow and flap your shade to and fro, so I drew it and 
went out, taking my lamp with me this time and softly closing your 
door behind me. See how it all seemed to fit in with everything else 
that had happened. It took a man with a will of his own and an un- 
shaken faith in woman to stand firm against such evidence.” 

And, though Alice Renwick was silent, she appreciated the fact 
none the less. Day after day she clung to her stalwart brother’s side. 
She had ceased to ask questions about Captain Armitage and that 
strange greeting after the first day or two, but, oddly enough, she could 
never let him talk long of any subject but that campaign, of his ride 
with the captain to the front, of the long talk they had had, and then 
the stirring fight and the magnificent way in which Armitage had 
handled his long skirmish-line. He was enthusiastic in his praise of 
the tall Saxon captain. He soon noted how silent and absorbed she 
sat when he was the theme of discourse; he incidentally mentioned 
little things he” had said about her” that morning, and marked 
how her color rose and her eyes flashed quick, joyful, questioning 
glance at his face, then fell in maiden shyness. He had speedily 
gauged the cause of that strange excitement displayed by Armitage 
at seeing him the morning he rode in with the scout. How he was 
gauging, with infinite delight, the other side of the question. Then, 


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brother- like, he began to twit and tease her ; and that was the last of 
the confidences. 

All the same it was an eager group that surrounded the colonel the 
evening he came down with the captain’s letter. “ It settles the thing 
in my mind. We’ll go back to Sibley to-morrow ; and as for you, 
Sergeant-Major Fred, your name has gone in for a commission, and 
I’ve no doubt a very deserving sergeant will be spoiled in making a 
very good-for-nothing second lieutenant. Get you back to your regi- 
ment, sir, and call on Captain Armitage as soon as you reach Fort 
Russell, and tell him you are much obliged. He has been blowing 
your trumpet for you there ; and, as some of those cavalrymen have 
sense enough to appreciate the opinion of such a soldier as my ex- 
adjutant, — some of them, mind yon : I don’t admit that all cavalry- 
men have sense enough to keep them out of perpetual trouble, — you 
came in for a hearty endorsement, and you’ll probably be up before the 
next board for examination. Go and bone your Constitution, and the 
Rule of Three, and who was the father of Zebedee’s children, and the 
order of the Ptolemies and the Seleucidse, and other such things that 
they’ll be sure to ask you as indispensable to the mental outfit of an 
Indian-fighter.” It was evident that the colonel was in joyous mood. 
But Alice was silent. She wanted to hear the letter. He would have 
handed it to Frederick, but both Mrs. Maynard and Aunt Grace I 
clamored to hear it read aloud : so he cleared his throat and began : j 

‘‘My dear Colonel, — 

“ Fred’s chances for a commission are good, as the enclosed papers \ 
will show you ; but even were this not the case I would have but one < 
thing to say in answer to your letter : he should go back to his troop. j 

“ Whatever our friends and fellow-citizens may think on the subject, j 
I hold that the profession of the soldier is to the full as honorable as 
any in civil life ; and it is liable at any moment to be more useful. I 
do not mean the officer alone. I say, and mean, the soldier. As for 
me, I would rather be first sergeant of my troop or company, or ser- 
geant-major of my regiment, than any lieutenant in it except the adju- 
tant. Hope of promotion is all that can make a subaltern’s life en- 
durable, but the staff-sergeant or the first sergeant, honored and 
resj)ected by his officers, decorated for bravery by Congress, and lookal 
up to by his comrades, is a king among men. The pay has nothing 


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319 


to do with it. I say to Renwick, ‘ Come back as soon as your wound 
will let you/ and I envy him the welcome that will be his. 

As for me, I am even more eager to get back to you all ; but 
things look very dubious. The doctors shake their heads at anything 
under a month, and say I’ll be lucky if I eat my Thanksgiving dinner 
with you. If trying to get well is going to help, October shall not be 
done with before B Company will report me present again. 

“ I need not tell you, my dear old friend, how I rejoice with you in 
your- -hum and haw and this is all about something else,” goes on the 
colonel, in malignant disregard of the longing looks in the eyes of three 
women, all of whom are eager to hear the rest of it, and one of whom 
wouldn’t say so for worlds. Write to me often. Remember me 
warmly to the ladies of your household. I fear Miss Alice would de- 
spise this wild, open prairie-country ; there is no golden-rod here, and I 
so often see her as — hum and hum and all that sort of talk of no interest 
to anybody,” says he, with a quizzical look over his ‘^bows” at the 
lovely face and form bending forward with forgetful eagerness to hear 
how he so often sees her.” And there is a great bunch of golden-rod 
in her lap now, and a vivid blush on her cheek. The colonel is waxing 
as frivolous as Fred, and quite as great a tease. 

And then October comes, and Fred has gone, and the colonel and 
his household are back at Sibley, where the garrison is enraptured at 
seeing them, and where the women precipitate themselves upon them 
in tumultuous welcome. If Alice cannot quite make up her mind to 
return the kisses, and shrinks slightly from the rapturous embrace of 
some of the younger and more impulsive of the sisterhood, — if Mrs. 
Maynard is a trifle more distant and stately than was the case before 
they went away, — the garrison does not resent it. The ladies don’t 
wonder they feel indignant at the way people behaved and talked ; and 
each lady is sure that the behavior and the talk were all somebody 
else’s ; not by any possible chance could it be laid at the door of the 
speaker. And Alice is the reigning belle beyond dispute, though there 
is only subdued gayety at the fort, for the memory of their losses at 
the Spirit Wolf is still fresh in the minds of the regiment. But no 
man alludes to the events of the black August night, no woman is 
? permitted to address either j\Irs. Maynard or her daughter on the sub- 
' ject. There are some who seek to be confidential and who cautiously 
Peel their way for an opening, but the mental sparring is vain : there is 
an indefinable something that tells the intruder, ‘^Thus far, and no 


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farther.” Mrs. Maynard is courteous, cordial, and hospitable, Alice 
sweet and gracious and sympathetic, even, but confidential never. 

And then Captain Armitage, late in the month, comes home on 
crutches, and his men give him a welcome that makes the rafters ring, 
and he rejoices in it and thanks them from his heart ; but there is a 
welcome his eyes plead for that would mean to him far more than any 
other. How wistfully he studies her face ! How unmistakable is the 
love and worship in every tone ! How quickly the garrison sees it all, 
and how mad the garrison is to see whether or not ^tis welcome to her ! 
But Alice Renwick is no maiden to be lightly won. The very thought 
that the garrison had so easily given her over to Jerrold is enough to 
mantle her cheek with indignant protest. She accepts his attentions, 
as she does those of the younger officers, with consummate grace. She 
shows no preference, will grant no favors. She makes fair distribution 
of her dances at the hops at the fort and the parties in town. There 
are young civilians who begin to be devoted in society and to come out 
to the fort on every possible opportunity, and these, too, she welcomes 
with laughing grace and cordiality. She is a glowing, radiant, gor- 
geous beauty this cool autumn, and she rides and drives and dances, 
and, the women say, flirts, and looks handsomer every day, and poor 
Armitage is beginning to look very grave and depressed. “ He wooes 
and wins not,” is the cry. His wound has almost healed, so far as the 
thigh is concerned, and his crutches are discarded, but his heart is 
bleeding, and it tells on his general condition. Tlie doctors say he 
ought to be getting well faster, and so they tell !Miss Renwick, — at 
least somebody does ; but still she relents not, and it is something 
beyond the garrison’s power of conjecture to decide what the result 
will be. Into her pretty white-and-yellow room no one penetrates 
except at her invitation, even when the garrison ladies are spending the 
day at the colonel’s ; and even if they did there would be no visible 
sign by which they could judge whether his flowers were treasured or 
his picture honored above others. Into her brave and beautiful nature 
none can gaze and say with any confidence either she loves” or she 
loves not.” Winter comes, with biting cold and blinding snow, and 
still there is no sign. The joyous holidays, the glad New Year, are 
almost at hand, and still there is no symptom of surrender. No one 
dreams of the depth and reverence and gratitude and loyalty and 
strength of the love that is burning in her heart until, all of a sudden, 


FROM THE RANKS. 


321 


in tlie most unexpected and astonishing way, it bursts forth in sight 
of all. 

They had been down skating on the slough, a number of the 
youngsters and the daughters of the garrison. Rollins was there, 
doing the devoted to Mamie Gray, and already there were gossips 
•yhispering that she would soon forget she ever knew such a beau as 
Jerrold in the new-found happiness of another one ; Hall was there 
with the doctor’s pretty daughter, and Mrs. Hoyt was matronizing the 
party, which would, of course, have been incomplete without Alice. She 
had been skating hand in hand with a devoted young subaltern in the 
artillery, and poor Armitage, whose leg was unequal to skating, had been 
ruefully admiring the scene. He had persuaded Sloat to go out and 
walk with him, and Sloat went ; but the hollow mockery of the whole 
thing became apparent to him after they had been watching the skaters 
awhile, and he got chilled and wanted Armitage to push ahead. The 
captain said he believed his leg was too stiff for further tramping and 
would be the better for a rest ; and Sloat left him. 

Heavens ! how beautiful she was, with her sparkling eyes and 
radiant color, glowing with the graceful exercise ! He sat there on 
an old log, watching the skaters as they flew by him, and striving to 
keep up an impartial interest, or an appearance of it, for the other girls. 
But the red sun was going down, and twil ight was on them all of a 
sudden, and he could see nothing but that face and form. He closed 
his eyes a moment to shut out the too eager glare of the glowing disk 
taking its last fierce peep at them over the western bluffs, and as he 
closed them the same vision came back, — the picture that had haunted 
his every living, dreaming moment since the beautiful August Sunday 
in the woodland lane at Sablon. With undying love, with changeless 
passion, his life was given over to the fair, slender maiden he had seen 
in all the glory of the sunshine and the golden-rod, standing with up- 
lifted head, with all her soul shining in her beautiful eyes and thrilling 
in her voice. Both worshipping and worshipped was Alice Renwick 
as she sang her hymn of praise in unison with the swelling chorus that 
floated through the trees from the little brown church upon the hill. 
From that day she was Queen Alice in every thought, and he her loyal, 
faitliful knight for weal or woe. 

Boom went the sunset gun far up on the parade above them. 
’Twas dinner-time, and the skaters were compelled to give up their pas- 
time. Armitage set his teeth at the entirely too devotional attitude of 

O* 


322 


FROM THE RANKS. 


tlie artilleryman as he slowly and lingeringly removed her skates, and 
turned away in that utterly helpless frame of mind which will overtake 
the strongest men on similar occasions, lie had been sitting too long in 
the cold, and was chilled through and stitf, and his wounded leg seemed 
numb. Leaning heavily on his stout stick, he began slowly and pain- 
fully the ascent to the railway, and chose for the purpose a winding 
path that was far less steep, though considerably longer, than the sharp 
climb the girls and their escorts made so light of. One after another 
the glowing faces of the fair skaters appeared above the embankment, 
and their gallants carefully convoyed them across the icy and slippery 
track to the wooden ])latform beyond. Armitage, toiling slowly up his 
pathway, heard their blithe laughter, and thought with no little bitter- 
ness that it was a case of out of sight out of mind” with him, as with 
better men. What sense vms there in his long devotion to her? Why 
stand between her and the far more natural choice of a lover nearer 
her years? ‘^Like unto like” was Nature^s law. It was flying in the 
face of Providence to expect to win the love of one so young and fair, 
when others so young and comely craved it. The sweat was beaded 
on his forehead as he neared the top and came in sight of the platform. 
Yes, they had no thought for him. Already Mrs. Hoyt was half-way 
up the wooden stairs, and the others were scattered more or less between 
that point and the platform at the station. Far down at the south end 
paced the fur-clad sentry. There it was an easy step from the track to 
the boards, and there, with much laughter but no difficulty, the young 
officers had lifted their fair charges to the walk. All were chatting 
gayly as they turned away to take the wooden causeway from the station 
to the stairs, and Miss Renwick was among the foremost at the point 
v/here it left the platform. Here, however, she glanced back and then 
about her, and then, bending down, began fumbling at the buttons of 
her boot. 

‘^Oh, permit me. Miss Renwick,” said her eager escort. “I will 
button it.” 

“ Thanks, no. Please don’t wait, good people. I’ll be with you in 
an instant.” 

And so the other girls, absorbed in talk with their respective gal- 
lants, passed her by, and then Alice Renwick again stood erect and 
looked anxiously but quickly back. 

Captain Armitage is not in sight, and we ought not to leave him. 
He may not find it easy to climb to that platform,” she said. 


FROM THE RANKS. 


323 


Armitage? Oh, he’ll come on all right,” answered the buttery- 
man, with easy assurance. Maybe he has gone round by the road. 
Even if he hasn’t, I’ve seen him make that in one jump many a time. 
He’s an active old buffer for his years.” 

But his wound may prove too much for that jump now. Ah 
there he comes,” she answered, with evident relief; and just at the 
moment, too, the forage-cap of the tall soldier rose slowly intc view 
some distance up the track, and he came walking slowly down on the 
sharp curve towards the platform, the same sharp curve continuing on 
out of sight behind him, — behind the high and rocky bluff. 

He’s taken the long way up,” said the gunner. Well, shall we 
go on ?” 

Not yet,” she said, with eyes that were glowing strangely and a 
voice that trembled. Her cheeks, too, were paling. Mr. Stuart, 
I’m sure I heard the roar of a train echoed back from the other side.” 

Nonsense, Miss Benwick ! There’s no train either way for two 
hours yet.” 

But she had begun to edge her way back toward the platform, and 
he could not but follow. Looking across the intervening space, — a 
rocky hollow twenty feet in depth, — he could see that the captain had 
reached the platform and was seeking for a good place to step up ; then 
that he lifted his right foot and placed it on the planking and with his 
cane and the stiff and wounded left leg strove to push himself on. 
Had there been a hand to help him, all would have been easy enough ; 
but there was none, and the plan would not work. Absorbed in his 
efforts, he could not see Stuart ; he did not see that Miss Renwick had 
left her companions and was retracing her steps to get back to the 
platform. He heard a sudden dull roar from the rocks across the 
stream ; then a sharp, shrill whistle just around the bluff. My God I 
a train, and that man there, alone, helpless, deserted ! Stuart gave a 
shout of agony : Back ! Roll back over the bank !” Armitage 
glanced around; determined; gave one mighty effort ; the iron-ferruM 
stick slipped on the icy track, and down he went, prone between the 
glistening rails, even as the black vomiting monster came thundering 
round the bend. He had struck his head upon the iron, and was 
stunned, not senseless, but scrambled to his hands and knees and strove 
to crawl away. Even as he did so he heard a shriek of anguish in his 
ears, and with one wild leap Alice Renwick came flying from the plat' 
form in the very face of ad\ ancing leath, and the next instant, her arm 


324 


FROM THE RANKS. 


clasped about his neck, his strong arms tightly clasping Aer, they were 
lying side by side, bruised, stunned, but safe, in a welcoming snow-driil 
half-w'ay down the hither bank. 

When Stuart reached the scene, as soon as the engine and some 
wrecking-cars had thundered by, he looked down upon a picture that 
dispelled any lingering doubt in his mind. Armitage, clasping Queen 
Alice his heart, was half rising from the blessed mantlet of the snow, 
and she, her head upon his broad shoulder, was smiling faintly up into 
liis face ; then the glorious eyes closed in a death-like swoon. 

Fort Sibley had its share of sensations that eventful year. Its 
crowning triumph in the one that followed was the wedding in the 
early spring. Of all the lovely women there assembled, the bride by 
common consent stood unrivalled, — Queen Alice indeed. There was 
some difference of opinion among authorities as to who was really the 
finest-looking and most soldierly among the throng of officers in the 
conventional full-dress uniform : many there were who gave the palm 
to the tall, dark, slender lieutenant of cavalry who wore his shoulder- 
knots for the first time on this occasion, and wdio, for a man from the 
ranks, seemed consummately at home in the manifold and trying duties 
of a groomsman. Mrs. Maynard, leaning on his arm at a later hour 
and looking up rapturously in his bronzed features, had no divided 
opinion. While others had by no means so readily forgotten or for- 
given the mad freak that so nearly involved them all in wretched mis- 
understanding, she had nothing but rejoicing in his whole career. 
Proud of the gallant officer who had won the daughter whom she 
loved K) tenderly, she still believes, in the depths of the boundless 
mother-love, that no man can quite surpass her soldier son. 


THE END, 









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